


Reality Is An Illusion

by Biracial_Mermaid



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 60s AU, A few OCs as side characters, Also if ur telling me Mabel wouldn't have been a hippie in the 60s we're gonna have to duke it out, Also ignoring canon and the author is still grandpa ford ok, And then later he has sex with Dipper while they're on drugs, Begging, Blowjobs, Cult Leader Bill, Dark!Dipper, Dipper is anxious and in a not-super-great place in his life, Drug Use, Hippie AU, Honestly this is just a straight up self indulgent fic, Human Bill Cipher, I'm trash and you're probably trash for reading, Idk if I'm keen on tagging it as noncon but Bill drugs Dipper and Mabes at one point, Is that a kink? Idk, Like for real he's on some Charles Manson shit, M/M, Mabel has Beatlemania, Mermando is a surfer and Mabel wants to hit it, Older Dipper Pines, Praise Kink, Smut in chapter eight, Sporadic Updates, Wendy/Robbie is a very VERY slight thing here, awkward 60s slang, god complex kink, manipulative relationships, sexual content in later chapters, sings Helter Skelter loudly, smut in chapter four, smut in chapter six
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biracial_Mermaid/pseuds/Biracial_Mermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer of love, 1967, and newly-graduated Dipper and Mabel Pines are getting ready to leave one another's sides for the first time since conception and venture off into the vast unknown of the real world. The twins are given a vacation to their great-uncle's place, where they have new adventures and meet new people; but when the masks come off, the new faces aren't as friendly as they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collectively Unconsciously Composed

_Tick._  Time was passing far too slow today.

 _Tock._ In retrospect, it probably had something to do with the fact that Dipper desperately wanted to leave.

 _Tick._  He’d, hopefully, never have to see this place ever again.

 _Tock._ The brunette might have been gifted with a scholarship to the University of Washington in Seattle, his first choice, but that didn’t mean he was a _total_ poindexter.

 _Tick._  He liked learning.

 _Tock._ He didn’t like school.

He both dreaded and anticipated the school bell’s ringing. The ringing of the bell would release him from his high school career and, by association, the hell he’d faced in the hallways of this godforsaken building. Four years and living in his twin’s social shadow later, he was ready to venture out of this town.

There were two sides to that coin, however. He’d never once been without Mabel for more than a few hours at a time. People often commented on how odd it was that they got along so well but they’d been best friends their entire lives. “From the womb, to the tomb,” is how Mabel put it at one point. Now that he was readying himself to head north in the fall and leave Mabel behind to fend for herself in their hometown, he very nearly regretted applying to the university in the first place. He was sure his sister could very well take care of herself. Him, on the other hand… Well, he hoped his dorm mate would have a maternal instinct, or he was royally fucked. The twins had spent 18 years now taking care of one another, and they were soon to be ripped apart by the cold, unforgiving hands of adulthood.

To ease the transition, their parents offered to give them a vacation as a graduation gift, but refused to tell them where to. Mabel liked surprises and was ecstatic over it. Dipper, not so much; but he’d be a liar to say it didn’t warm his heart to see his sister so happy. They were set to leave in the morning, come back three months later, and then Dipper would be leaving on his own for the first time since conception. To say he was terrified was an understatement. To say he’d miss Mabel was, too.

Finally, the bell gave a long, shrill ring from it’s place above the dusty chalkboard and Dipper was on his feet and through the door before the teacher could wish him a good summer.

The walk to Mabel’s locker took longer than usual, given the throngs of teenagers signing yearbooks and crying on one another’s shoulders about how they’d better visit one another at college, or making plans to party. None of them seemed to have any regard for the people trying to maneuver around the hallway in a manner timely enough so as to keep them from over thinking about their impending anxiety. He wanted out of the building as quickly as possible, and he’d already be gone if he hadn’t promised to help Mabel clean out her locker after class. “Quick” just wasn’t an option today, especially not with the train wreck that was his twin’s personal space.

In an attempt to make the journey faster, the brunette dropped his green eyes to the ground and counted tiles as his shoes hit the tops of them. One black. One white. Two black. Anything to distract him from everybody’s conversations and the after-summer plans coupling with growing anxiety in his chest. Wading through the ocean of teenagers was enough to make him feel claustrophobic, but on top of that it was summer and some of these kids had no sense of personal space or manners. With the time it was taking to weave between and around friends and lovers alike, Dipper wondered if Mabel would be finished cleaning her own locker and they could just go _home._

As luck would have it, though, nobody was even at Mabel’s locker as he rounded the corner that just hardly hid it away. The teen wrinkled his nose and leaned against the wall, waiting for the girl. He’d been so prepared to apologize for taking so long, but she was nowhere in sight.

Or rather, she hadn’t been until he heard grunting coming from a cluster of students. Soon enough, a mess of curly brown hair much like his own was pushing its way through the chattering girls and rushing towards him in a mess of blue and pink and paisley patterns. “Dipper!” she called, grinning to her brother as her skirt flew behind her like a cloud. “Hey, the hallways are ridiculous!”

“You’re telling me,” he offered with the hint of a chuckle, pushing himself off of the wall. As she put in her combination, he turned to face the storage space and crossed his arms. “I was all the way across the school, what’s your excuse?”

His sister rolled her eyes at him and offered a tiny smirk. “Bradley wanted me to sign his yearbook. Phone number included.”

“That candyass with the tight pants?”

Mabel clicked her tongue at that. “Don’t be mean,” she huffed, slapping at his arm playfully before turning back to the task at hand. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s a cool head. And yes, I _did_ give him my number. Told him not to call until after august 25th, though. Bec _aaaaaau_ se,” she paused and turned to her twin dramatically, hands in the air. “Super surprise graduation vacation, woo!”

“Woo,” Dipper repeated less enthusiastically, though he still held a smile that, apparently, wasn’t good enough for Mabel.

“God, you’re such a killjoy,” she giggled, now beginning to tug handfuls of garbage from her locker and toss them into the trash can beside Dipper. I really hope you’re less bitter while we’re having a ball this summer.”

“I might be _more_  bitter, depending on where we go.” This answer earned a small wad of paper thrown at his head. It bounced off and then landed in the garbage can, much to his sister’s amusement. “Knowing our luck, we’d get shipped off to the woods instead of the beach.”

“Man, I have great karma, _my_ luck is pretty balanced out. You mean _your_  luck.” It seemed all of the garbage was cleared out of her locker now, and she got to work on ungluing all of the pictures she’d pasted to the door.

Dipper watched her pout briefly after tearing John Lennon’s face in half and then throw the picture away, all the while complaining that she’d liked that one. “I think my karma’s fine.”

“Of course _you_ do, but which one of us got asked out on the last day of school, hmmmm?”

Instead of replying, Dipper bent down and picked up a wad of paper from the garbage and flicked it at Mabel, much like she’d done to him. “I think it was the more boy crazy one of us here.”

“Hey, a girl wants what a girl wants. And I _know_ what I want.”

“Please, don’t go into detail.”

“I want a guy who’s like, 6’2-”

“Mabel please-”

“With rock hard abs and a tan,”

“Mabel!”

“And who can serenade me in Spanish-”

“Oh my god,” Dipper groaned, turning to walk away from his now laughing sister. She tore down the last of her photos and slammed her locker shut before running to catch up with him. “I’ll keep my eye out for Clark Gable circa 1934 this summer, but I guarantee nothing.”

“Oh, please. I’m cuter than Scarlett O’Hara. Plus, that tiny mustache thing he had going on was a little groadie.”

“You like mustaches,” he reminded her, to which she scoffed.

“Yeah, but not on Clark Gable.”

Thankfully, by this time the hallways had cleared considerably and the twins could now walk side by side and continue their conversation until they started down the sidewalk outside of their alma matter. “So, speaking of guys you’re gonna hook me up with this summer, what do you think the guys are like where we’re going.”

“Depends on where we’re going,” Dipper said with a shrug. “I just hope they aren’t all lumberjacks is all.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna jinx us! Anyway, I really hope it’s San Francisco. That’s where everyone’s going this year.” Of course Mabel would want to go where everyone else was. She was a dreamer and a socialite, all too happy to join the masses in harmony and happiness.

Dipper smiled to his sister and arched an eyebrow. “Well, if we’re going to San Francisco,” he began with a slight tune in his tone.

“Be sure to wear flowers in your hair,” they finished together, harmonizing the lyrics and finishing with a small, shared laughter.

There was a couple second long silence between them as they walked comfortably in the quiet. That is, until Mabel broke it. “But really, Bro-bro. I really hope it’s San Fran.”

“It might be, who knows?” As he entertained her thought, Dipper started up the porch steps to open the front door to their home, the same one he’d be leaving as soon as summer ended. The thought made his stomach turn, but he showed no sign of anxiety as he pushed it open. He stepped inside and behind him, Mabel shut the door as he called, “We’re back!”

Their father was the first to greet them, grins and all as he looked up from his spot on the sofa. “Hey, kids. How was your last day?”

“Mabel got asked out,” Dipper responded, sliding his shoes from his feet.

“Yeah,” his twin countered. “And Dipper Got hit in the head with a waded up piece of homework. In all, it was an eventful day.”

Their mother entered the room from the kitchen and sent a small pout in her daughter’s direction. “Please tell me you’re the one who threw it.”

“Of course,” she scoffed. “Like I would stand for someone else being mean to my dearest baby brother. I’ve got dibs on being his bully! Bullying Dip dibs!” While Dipper understood his sister was merely trying to make the best out of the situation, it sort of stung that she still acted as though he couldn’t stand up for himself. This wasn’t sixth grade anymore, he wasn’t being overtly sought out by snot nosed bullies; and even if he was, he could most _definitely_ defend himself against them without her help, now.

“You’re older by like two minutes!”

“Two and a half,” she corrected, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “And a half an inch taller.”

“Careful, keep acting smug and all that ‘good karma’ of yours is going to rot,” he warned with a playfully condescending frown.

The girl blew a raspberry through her lips and shoved her brother away by the shoulder. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I’ve got good karma for years, pal.”

“Well,” their mother laughed, shaking her head. “I’m glad to see you both in such high spirits.”

“Shouldn’t we be? We’re going on vacation tomorrow,” Dipper could easily tell by the tone in her voice that Mabel was going to try prying it out of them for the umpteenth time. “Speaking of which-”

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” their father interrupted, shooting down the question as per usual. “Once you get off the bus. Surprise is the best part of a surprise, don‘t you know?”

“We’re taking a bus?” Mabel asked. Welp, that ruled out San Francisco. He highly doubted their parents would pay for a bus ride only a half hour drive and given the pout in his twin’s voice, he felt almost bad for being relieved that he wouldn’t be surrounded by throngs of strangers who just wanted to get high and make music all day.

“Yeah, a Greyhound. Oh, come on, don’t give me that look.” Their dad returned the pout and placed his hands on his hips. “Don’t think of it as a smelly old bus, think of it like… Like a luxurious fifty seat limo. With strangers. And maybe a lot of pre-chewed gum underneath your seat.”

“Ew,” breathed Dipper, wrinkling his nose at the thought. He made a mental note not to touch the underside of anything as soon as he stepped foot onto the contraption their father tried to paint as a carriage.

“That was a joke,” the man insisted with a small laugh. “Greyhounds are pretty clean. Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll love it! The place you’re going is a beach town and I’ve been there before- it’s a blast during the summer. I promise you’ll like it.” His gaze pointedly turned to Dipper as he said, “Both of you.”

Dipper knew what that meant. His father’s words roughly translated to ‘Mabel can party, but you’ll have all that weird artistic and/or supernatural junk that you like so much.’ That was enough assurance for him and his faith in the vacation was restored. “What should we be packing?” he asked.

“Just the normal stuff for a vacation,” his mother answered, waving her hand dismissively. “Bathing suits, sun block, maybe some bug spray?”

“Barbara, they aren’t going to need bug spray, it’s right beside the ocean.”

“Bugs can be tricky things! You can never be too safe!”

As their parents broke off into a conversation of their very own, the twins slipped upstairs to start packing for their vacation. After a long, hard session of thinking, Dipper decides that bug spray isn’t necessary if he’s correct. “I’m willing to bet it’s LA,” he said to the sound of footsteps behind him as he zipped up his suitcase. When he turned around, his sister had on a giant pair of sunglasses and a feather boa.

The image was so like Mabel that Dipper had to appreciate it for himself. Blue paisley skirt and her flowing, pink top were probably the only vaguely normal bit of her ensemble. The boa was an electric blue and the glasses, hiding half of his sister’s face, were framed in the shape of hearts. They made her physically unrecognizable, but it was possibly the closest resemblance to her personality he’d ever seen. She wore little plain clothes in the midst of playful and loud (obnoxiously so, sometimes) accessories that outshined whatever blandness she held. She was certainly special. Dipper thought silently that she’d do well in a place like LA.

“Really? Why’s that?” she asked, lowering the glasses to wiggle her eyebrows at her twin.

After a snort, the teen shakes his head and sits on the corner of his bed. “I just think it’d be a good place for a vacation relevant to both our interests. You could go out and party on the beach and I could go see The Doors live or something, hear a Jim Morrison poetry reading. Stuff like that.”

“If you think for a single moment that I’d let you go see Jim Morrison perform lewd acts on stage without me, you’re sadly mistaken,” she protested. “But honestly, I think they’re sending us south.”

“Uh… San Diego?”

“Nope!” she chirped with a grin. As she sauntered over, she pulled off the blue feathered boa and wrapped it around the back of Dipper’s neck instead. “Tijuana!” she giggled, shimmying the scarf,

“Mexico? How is that relevant to me at all?”

“They have some cool museums and stuff,” she replied with a shrug. “And pyramids. You dig that nerdy shit, right?”

“Yeah, no offense, but I’m still rooting for Los Angeles,” Dipper chuckled, tugging the mess of feathers from his shoulders. “I’d prefer to stay in America.”

“Pft. Of course _you_ would,” Mabel teased, taking the boa back from him and turning to leave the room. “That’s just what boring people do, I guess.”

“Excuse me? I’m not boring!”

“Booooooring!”

“Your face is boring!”

“We have the same face, Daddy-o.”

“Ugh, you sound like mom when she gets drunk and tries to seduce dad.” Mabel paused in the archway of his door to laugh at that, shaking her head.

“Finish getting packed, you dipstick.” Her tone was warm and affectionate as usual, and as she disappeared into her room again, Dipper couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with missing her already. He was going to be devastated in college without her there to lovingly insult him. He’d have to make the summer last as long as possible, and then he’d find a way to occupy himself on campus when the time came.

But first and foremost, he needed to finish packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have another fic I've been neglecting, but yo... Cult Leader!Bill is a thing okay.   
> I'm in a pretty wonky place right now so updates miiiight be a little sporradic, but it's whatever. If I don't see any Hippie!Mabel fanart I might cry tbh


	2. Somethin' Stupid

“You’re joking,” Mabel said, staring dumbfounded at the backdrop of bark and greenery. The bus had just driven away and now the twins were left to stand at the depot, staring at a lush, thick forest as opposed to the sunny seaside they’d hoped for. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I told you that you were jinxing us with all that forest talk!” As she yelled, Mabel spun lightly to point an accusing finger at her twin.

“Me?!” Dipper demanded, frantically waving his hands as if it‘d aid him in making his point. “ _You’re_ the one who was overestimating your karma! Doing that‘s bad karma!”

“I didn’t overestimate anything, my karma’s just fine!” Dipper watched her drop her arms in defeat and sit on top of her suitcase, decorated with drawings of peace signs, bumper stickers and pictures of The Beatles. “Maaaan. This is the Winnie. They sent us to the woods.” She thrust her hands in front of them. “The woods, Dipper!”

“I can see that,” the teen sighed, glancing around for any sign of a beach behind the wall of foliage and leaves, but gave up when the most interesting thing he saw was a tipped log that looked like a giant squirrel. “They said it was a beach town.”

“I think there’s a beach like on the other side of town. I saw one when we were pulling in, anyway. So when’s he supposed to get here? Any idea what Stan even looks like?”

“Not a clue.”

“You’re the family historian, here.”

“Just because I know more about our history doesn’t mean I know it all, Mabes.” As he explained, a cherry red mustang- no more than a few years old- pulled up in front of them and came to a screeching halt. The abrupt stop kicked up gravel and dust right in front of them, much to the twins’ discomfort. For a moment, Dipper had been prepared to fight the stranger who stepped out- that is, until the dust died down and he noticed said stranger was a slender redheaded woman with freckled cheeks and kind, gem colored eyes with the slightest glint of mischief.

“You’re the Pines twins, right?” she asked and oh gee, even her voice was cute. Almost as cute as her round, unblemished face.

“You’re not Grunkle Stan,” Mabel teased, standing from her seat on the suitcase and offering a hand. “I’m Mabel, and the kid staring at you like an idiot is Dipper.”

“Mabel!” Dipper whined in humiliated protest, furrowing his brow in her direction.

Luckily, the redhead giggled and shook her head as she gripped Mabel’s hand. “I’m Wendy. I work for your uncle and his old, lazy ass was too busy watching Dark Shadows to come get you himself. Lucky for you, my driving is much more fun.”

As soon as her hand was released, Mabel was tugging her suitcase around the back to the trunk. Dipper followed suit, glancing at Wendy every so often. There was no denying the girl was attractive. She had long eyelashes and a small, button nose that accentuated her round, blue eyes perfectly. Blue eyes, red hair, pink cheeks. She was like a living, breathing art piece.

“This is Grunkle Stan’s car, right?” Mabel asked. Dipper noted that she sounded almost hopeful, and he caught the grin on her face when Wendy nodded.

“Yeah, I figured you’d rather ride in this than a golf cart. Was I right or was I right?”

“Shotgun!” Mabel yelled, making a beeline for the passenger seat. For a moment, Dipper wanted to pout over not sitting beside Wendy, but refrained. That wouldn’t leave a very good impression. Or rather, not a very manly one. This girl looked like she probably liked really buff, strong dudes. Dipper could do that. He could- uh- he could work out! He had all summer to start doing push ups. Maybe he could chop wood or-

“Hey, you alright, man?”

Wendy’s voice brought him back to reality and away from daydreams of his arm muscles swelling as Wendy hung off of them, giggling in a way that would probably be uncharacteristic from what he’d already seen of her.

She’d already gotten the car started and he was still standing around, frowning in Mabel’s direction. “Uh, yeah, I’m cool,” he said, cheeks flushing as he opened the door behind her and slipped into the car. “Just kinda… Looking for the beach.”

“Oh! The beach is about a mile away, like right behind the shack.”

Dipper cast a glance to his sister then. “A shack?” The car had left the impression that their uncle had money- probably the reason Mabel had been all grins upon learning it was his car- but he was living in a shack?

From the driver’s seat, Wendy nodded her head. “Mmhm. Yeah, the Mystery Shack. You know, the tourist trap with all the fake junk people pay to see?” Dipper hummed noncommittally as he watched the town pass outside his window. It seemed so tiny. Sleepy. There were hardly any buildings suited to his tastes; nor to Mabel’s. The record shop looked small in comparison to the bar beside it, and it seemed more abandoned than anything else.

There wasn’t as much sunshine as there would be in Los Angeles, he noted. The atmosphere was damp and cloudy, as though he was watching through a barely-there, gray filter. This town didn’t seem to be a party town, though, and he liked that. He would get to relax and wouldn’t have to worry much about his sister, who had a habit of running off and getting into shenanigans he would then pull her out of. If there was even the slightest chance that this town would provide Dipper with a break, well it was tuff enough in his book.

“Dipper?” Mabel’s voice pulled him out of his daydreams of waterside reading and roaming the forest for wildlife.

The teen raised his head to glance at his twin, who was turned slightly in her seat to peer at him over the back of it. “Hm?”

“I _said_ ,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, presumably at her brother‘s lack of attention. “Going to the beach sounds groovy, right? Wendy said her brothers even had a few surfboards they don’t use anymore!”

_S_ _he knows I don’t like surfing,_ Dipper thought to himself though he grinned and nodded. “Sounds like a gas, Mabes.”

“Far out,” Wendy laughed, propping her elbow up on the seat between her and Mabel. It didn’t seem like sound safety measures to drive with one hand, and neither did the suicide knob on his uncle’s steering wheel, but he said nothing. “Alright, I’ll let ‘em know I’m taking the boards and after work tomorrow, we can all go hang ten. Cool?”

“Very cool,” Dipper replied, though he was more enthusiastic about seeing Wendy in a bathing suit than he was about the actual surfing. The redhead grinned at him through the rearview mirror then and nodded.

“Cool,” she chuckled, pulling into a part between the forest foliage. They drove down a narrow, graveled road surrounded by trees until there was a considerably larger part to reveal a less than up-kept house. It appeared to be an exaggerated log cabin with a bigger-than-usual slope of a roof. If it hadn’t been for the larger than life sign exclaiming “MYSTERY SHACK” with an arrow pointing to the door, Dipper would think it fit in perfectly with the serene woods around it.

“Home sweet home,” Wendy cooed as she pulled up to the front door and switched off the ignition to the car. Mabel followed her out and around to the trunk, but Dipper stood and took it all in. A totem pole tilted slightly in greeting beside the house, which Dipper could see had chipped varnish and splintered wood. He’d have to warn Mabel not to touch anything outside of the cabin to avoid any sort of injury.

_Or infection,_ Dipper thought as he noted the spittoon beside an old rocking chair on the porch.

“Hey, princess, quit standing around like a bum and help us out, will ya?” Mabel teased as she passed by, bumping him with her hip. She knelt down and set his suitcase on the ground before starting back towards the shack once again.

Dipper picked up his bag and followed suit. He could do more looking around later. His hand almost met the railing to the porch stairs until he yanked it away in fear of splinters, remembering how cheaply made the shack looked to be. He glanced to said railing and then back up just in time to see the door swing open to reveal a tall, older man with five o’clock shadow and a smile on his face; and though it met his eyes, they still felt hardened and toughened by whatever kind of life this guy had had. Yeesh.

“Kids!” he greeted, raising his arms. “Damn, it’s weird to see you guys all grown up! I haven’t seen you since you were fresh out of the oven,” Though it wasn’t thick, he had the slightest hint of a New Jersey accent. Had his parents ever mentioned living in New Jersey as kids? “Come on in and let me show you around.”

If Mabel was as reluctant to step inside as Dipper was, she didn’t show it. The girl burst through the door beside their great uncle and peered around. Everywhere the twins looked was one terrifying(ly fake) display after another. A raccoon with one eye. A newt with bat wings. This shop looked like it had been made up and stocked with nothing but rejected sideshow attractions from a lifetime ago.

Nonetheless, Stan looked proud of it. He stood in the very center and put his arms up in a swift, self-congratulatory motion. “This here’s the shack. This is where a bunch of old, creepy stuff goes to attract tourists.”

“Does it really attract anybody?” Dipper muttered under his breath, earning him a shove from his sister and a scoff from his uncle.

“It’s still standing, ain’t it? I gotta pay the mortgage somehow,” the man retorted before plastering another grin on his face. Dipper could tell just from watching the movement that he was a natural con artist, able to fake a charming smile at will. “Anyway, there’s more to see. Right back here,” he began, turning on his heel to show them to an archway with a beaded partition. Stan pulled it back to show a hallway that turned sharply in front of them. “Is the actual living quarters. This is where you guys are gonna be staying for the summer.”

The twins shuffled forward, taking in once last glance around the shop as they made way to the hall. They stepped past Stan and started down the narrow corridor, peering their heads around curiously. The hallway led to a living room which was comfortably lived in (to put it nicely) and had no set pattern in the décor.

Across from the living room’s entryway was one into the kitchen, which wasn’t destroyed but wasn’t particularly clean. There were dishes lining the counter beside the sink and- and a rather large man in the fridge. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel began, furrowing her eyebrows. “I think there’s someone burglaring your leftovers.”

“Oh, nah, that’s just Soos. Hey, Soos, c’mere!”

The man glanced over his shoulder and offered a smile much warmer and more genuine than Stan’s. “Hey, what’s going on, Mr. Pines?”

“Soos, these are my great grand… eh… what’s the gender neutral word?”

“Niblings,” Dipper answered, earning a look from both Mabel (who asked how he even knew that in a hushed tone) and Stan that made him wish he had kept that tidbit to himself.

“Right,” Stan drawled, tearing his eyes from his nephew. “Great grand niblings. This is Soos, my handy man and- as much as he’s here- almost like a son.”

The man, Soos, lit up at that. His hands enthusiastically extended, one towards each of them. “Yup, that’s me! Employee and honorary family member at your service!”

While Mabel gushed that it was _so_ nice to meet him, enthusiastically shaking his hand, Dipper eyed the one extended to him cautiously before gingerly wrapping his fingers around the other’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“Groovy,” Soos chuckled and wow, he had been elated since Stan said he was like a son; even if Dipper felt the comment was a little underhanded.

The old man clapped a hand down on his shoulder with almost painful force and nodded. “And you guys already met Wendy,”

“ _Yeah_ we did!” Mabel laughed, winking at Dipper and nudging his side, much to his mortification. Luckily, Stan intervened.

“Yeah, groovy or whatever you kids are saying these days. Anyway, I’m glad you guys like ‘em because you’ll be working with them all summer.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper noticed his sister’s face drop at that. “Work?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. “But it’s _summer_!”

“Well, that’s tough,” Stan replied, which earned a whine from Mabel.

“No, Grunkle Stan, that’s the opposite of tuff!”

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, you get every Saturday off. And just because you’re my favorite niblings, you can have Sundays off, too. Deal?”

Dipper watched his twin sigh and nod in defeat, shoulders slumping. “Yeah,” she huffed. “That’s boss.”

“Boss. Okay, I like the sound of that. Anyway, I should probably show you kids up to your room, right?” As soon as both twins hummed in agreement, they were following the man up a flight of stairs and waving a small goodbye to the handyman/adopted son.

Mabel walked up the stairs first, leaving Dipper as the very last to make it up to the attic with two cots and two night stands with boxes, mostly full of more sideshow attractions, pushed off to the side. There was a sorry excuse of a carpet between the cots and a stray dust bunny here and there. In all, the attic they were to be living in was a bland and the atmosphere was damp, but there was one thing that caught Dipper’s eye.

Just beside the door leading to the staircase, Grunkle Stan had shoved a bookshelf off to the side almost carelessly, though it was stacked to the brim with different volumes of hardbacks and paperbacks alike. They were coated with a layer of dust so thick that Dipper couldn’t entirely make out any titles on their spines.

Grunkle Stan didn’t strike him as a well read man, and yet he had a rather impressive library hidden away in the attic. Some of the books looked like they could have been decades old. The thought excited Dipper. “See you eyeing the bookshelf there, kid.” His uncle’s gruff voice yanked him out of his excited daydreams and when he looked up at the man, he offered a soft, almost genuine and appreciative smile. “Have at ‘em. They were your grandpa’s.”

Well, that proved that Dipper was right about Stan not reading much, if at all. Still, he was grateful for the permission and gave a small nod to the man. “Thanks.”

Stan hummed in reply and it grew silent, leaving the trio to look around the room, each thinking very different things as far as Dipper knew. For once, he didn’t want to pry and break the silence. He wasn’t curious about the nostalgic, serene look on Stan’s face, nor the fact that Mabel tilted her head and grinned as she looked at the ceiling as if optimistically imagining the things she could do to that room. No, Dipper Pines was content for the first time in a long time for that moment in time. He felt as though he was opening the book of his life to a new chapter, a fresh one that he’d write himself- one that would be great.

Then Mabel broke the silence. “I call this side of the room!” she giggled, rushing forward and dropping down onto the cot to Dipper’s right. “I’m gonna put up a whoooole bunch of posters! Grunkle Stan, will you drive me to the record store tomorrow to pick some up?”

“For sure, kid,” the man chuckled warmly, starting to the stairs. “As for now, though, I’ll let you guys get settled in, alright?” Both twins said ‘alright’ in unison before the man left, shutting the door behind him and leaving them to their own devices.

Dipper made a beeline to the books and pulled a random one down. The covering was a deep, hardback blue and the pages inside had yellowed with age. Tentatively, as though he might break it, Dipper ran his hand over the front to remove the lining of soil that had since made it’s home. “Romeo and Juliet,” he read aloud before gingerly opening the cover to the copyright page. “Mabel!” he exclaimed with a gasp, spinning to face the girl who had taken to bouncing on the bed. “This was printed in 1870! Do you have any idea-”

“Groovy, brother, but I don’t care,” she replied, entirely enthralled by the bouncing. “I mean, both of them were dipsticks if you ask me. ‘Oh look, we’re fourteen and totally ready for marriage after knowing each other for a day!’ And then like four people died and they killed themselves. Seriously, they were younger than we are now. Think about how fucked up that is!”

“That’s not the interesting part, Mabel, this book is really old. Oh man-” he hurriedly put it back. “I shouldn’t have even touched it. If it falls apart or something because I touched it, I hope you realize I‘m going to die of guilt.”

“Quit being such a nerd, it’s just a bunch of paper and ink,” Mabel chuckled.

Dipper eyed the shelf again and then looked at his sister. “You shouldn’t be bouncing, you know,” he sniffed. “This shack is pretty shoddy, you might fall through the roof.”

“Psh,” she dismissed, bouncing a little higher until finally falling onto her bottom on the mattress. With another delighted giggle, she laid back and sprawled out on the bed. “I don’t wanna work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, the whole work thing sucks,” Dipper agreed, picking up his suitcase again and toting it to his side of the room, where he sat on his cot and glanced to his sister, who huffed and turned to her side to look at him.

“Think we’ll get to do anything fun this summer? Like, we won’t be too busy with _work-_ ” she said the word mockingly before her voice returned to normal. “-or anything?”

Dipper chewed on his lip thoughtfully and glanced to the bookshelf, then back to Mabel. “No, it’s gonna be a good summer.”

“I hope so,” Mabel sighed, a sad look in her eyes; which she promptly closed and shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said. “No, no! What am I saying?! This summer’s gonna be fab!” She opened her eyes to throw her brother a crooked grin. “I have you, and you have me. It’s gonna be a gas!”

Her twin nodded and shut his eyes, reclining back on his bed. “Yeah, man. It’ll be out of sight.” With the book collection his grandfather left behind and his beautiful, redheaded coworker, Dipper Pines was going to have the best summer he could before he left his family behind and started his career.

In fact, he was determined to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chants loudly] BILL NEXT CHAPTER  
> BILL NEXT CHAPTER  
> SMUT IN THE CHAPTER AFTER- 
> 
> The feedback I've been getting so far is ridiculous aaaaaah!!!  
> Seriously comments/kudos fuel me and you're all lovely human beings ♥♥♥♥


	3. Penny Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chants to the Bill Nye theme song] BILL BILL BILL BILL

Their first weekend off as employees at the Mystery Shack had been eventful. They’d wandered around the forest together, they’d met new people and spent time at the beach and record shop and just about every place the town had to offer- which was surprisingly a lot for such a small town. The second week, however, they’d found themselves at the beach once again with little to do after exhausting the initial excitement at said places.

Dipper’s sunburnt nose was buried in a book- The Great Gatsby- and he pretended that he wasn’t keeping an eye on Wendy. She’d offered to drive them to the beach and to hang out with them, but she’d only spent approximately twenty minutes of the three hours they’d been there within hearing distance. She’d keep finding reasons to stand by the concession stand and talk to the punk with the slicked back hair.

“Pftch,” Dipper scoffed, eyes glaring just past the pages of his book and towards the panty waist chatting his redheaded friend up. “It’s 1967. Nobody takes greasers seriously anymore. He’s definitely trying too hard.”

“More like you’re trying too hard,” Mabel hummed from beside him. While Dipper laid on his stomach over his beach towel, Mabel was on her back, though she lifted her head to look at him and raised her sunglasses to prove her point. He dreaded whatever words were readying to leave her mouth. “You’re literally looking for reasons to dislike the guy for moving in on your crush. I thought we were out of high school but whatever, dude.”

The brunette rolled his eyes at his sister and replied, though his eyes stayed glued to Robbie- the concession stand employee- as he spoke. “This is coming from the girl who has at least one picture of Paul McCartney on everything she owns.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not hating on Linda.” She had a point. Nonetheless, Dipper was bound to argue.

Just as he opened his mouth to do so, though, he found himself interrupted by the obnoxiously booming voice of Grenda, Mabel’s most recent best friend. “Mabes, glad we found you!” The ‘we’ in reference was of course, Grenda and the girl standing beside her, Candy. How they managed to stay friends was beyond Dipper. They were polar opposites. Grenda was loud and brash where Candy was soft spoken and only sometimes threatening. The brunette had a thick waist and broad shoulders whereas the small Korean girl looked so fragile that one wrong glance could break her in half. Grenda almost always sounded angry. Candy usually sounded disinterested. Despite all these differences, the pair were inseparable; and they’d taken to Mabel after she punched one of the locals for throwing a racial slur Candy’s way.

Mabel offered a smile and sat up properly. “Hey, guys!” As cheerful as ever, Dipper’s twin greeted her friends and placed her glasses atop her head. “How’s it hanging?”

“Great, actually. Wanna come to a party with us?”

“Where to?” It almost surprised Dipper that Mabel didn’t accept right off the bat as she usually would. Being impulsive and a party girl usually led to such shenanigans as jumping head first into any offer of booze or dancing. On more than one occasion Dipper had to step in and watch her drunken actions. It wasn’t that his sister was stupid, she was just far too trusting.

It was for that reason that if Mabel was going to a party, it was likely he’d go too. Lowering his book, he latched onto their conversation, just as Candy replied. “You wouldn’t know him,” she said with a shrug. “He just moved here and opened up a commune right outside of town. That’s where the party’s at.”

“That’s a lot of walking.” For a moment, Dipper was hopeful that she’d decline, but her face lit up after a second of consideration. “Bah, who cares! Come on, Dipper, let’s go!”

“What about Wendy?” Though he really _was_ enjoying the sight of Wendy in a tight, form-fitting bra and high-waisted shorts combo, he was desperately grasping for straws as to why they couldn’t go to some commune and drink the night away.

His sister threw him an incredulous glance and placed her hands on her hips. “Dipper, she’s not gonna care if we ditch. Seriously, she’s been too busy drawing designs on Robbie.”

“I don’t know… It just sounds… A little sketchy.” And it did. Some random dude moving to town and starting a hippie commune, inviting teenagers of varying ages to hang out? That was just asking for trouble.

The answer apparently didn’t sit well with Mabel because she sat forward and leaned on her hands with a pout. “Dipper, seriously? Are you gonna make me go to this party without you?”

The teen thought about all the things that could potentially go wrong. The longer the thoughts went on, the worse they became until finally, Dipper huffed in defeat. “Fine. Yeah, I’ll come with you.” The next thing he knew, his sister was throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

After pulling some semblance of casual dress over their bathing suits, the twins followed Candy and Grenda through the town. The only stop they made in the twenty minute walk was to purchase a few bottles of Coke and then the group was on their merry way once more. Though the girls seemed to be in high spirits, chattering away and giggling together, Dipper stayed at least five paces behind at all times. He could have easily joined their conversation, but what would be the point? Who really cared about what David Bowie was wearing on stage these days? Who cared that Janis Joplin was _so_ pretty that they wanted to look like her? The short answer was that Dipper didn’t. So he walked behind them and kept his eyes on the book in his hands. He’d read a sentence, glance at his surroundings, make sure Mabel wasn’t too far away, and repeat.

By the end of a chapter, Grenda was leading the others to an already-open gate and Dipper had to put his book down, then, and gawk at the property. First of all, it was huge. Large enough for three houses, each smaller but better kept than the last, with full sized yards in between them. Not that it mattered much, though, because bodies exposed and modest alike drifted from place to place, dancing to faintly heard music and laughing happily with whatever neighbor was beside them like the yards didn‘t matter. The colors felt more vibrant through the gate. The trees on the property, not too many but enough to provide shade and shelter for those underneath or climbing them. The grass, bright green and long enough to come up to Dipper’s mid-calf. Even the sky within the realm of this property looked bluer to him.

Dipper vaguely had time to study a small group of people surrounding one another beside a tree until a girl was standing in front of him and obstructing his view. “Greetings and many warm welcomes to you, man,” the girl laughed in a high, rasped voice. Her hair was blonde and braided off to the side, flowers sporadically placed within a few of the rungs. She raised a hand and within moments, was slipping a dandelion into Dipper’s own mess of curls. “My name’s Melanie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around. Are you new?”

“Uh-” Dipper struggled for words. A girl was talking to him- at that, a really beautiful girl with soft, sky colored eyes and hollow, pink cheeks was talking to him. “I’m uh… Yeah, I’ve never been here before.” He motioned to the girls beside him and her eyes flickered past his shoulder. “I came here with-”

“Ah, Candy and Grenda. I didn’t see you there,” she offered with a grin. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Mabel, and the big goof you just gave flowers to is Dipper, my brother.” Okay, Mabel had to quit introducing him. Still, Melanie giggled and offered a grin.

“Dipper,” she repeated, reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder. “I like that. It’s kinda freaky, right?”

“I suppose?” While he could tell this chick was beautiful- anybody would have to be blind _not_ to notice- he also realized that she hadn’t stopped grinning since their arrival and by this point it was a little unsettling. She was _too_ happy. _Maybe she’s stoned._

“Well Dipper, Mabel, you guys seem really far out. Like, I don’t know, I feel like we have a good vibration between us, don’t you?”

“Oh my god, like a connection, right?” Mabel laughed, arms extended for emphasis. Dipper watched Melanie nod happily and place her hands in his sister’s. Man, she was really touchy-feely.

“Yes, exactly! God, you’re all so beautiful, you absolutely _have_ to meet everybody.” Before Dipper could protest, she had one hand around his wrist and the other around Mabel’s. She gracefully bounced as she dragged he and his twin along. While Mabel giggled happily and strode along, Dipper stumbled over himself and wondered why this girl was so excitable; and more, why everybody they passed seemed to be permanently happy.

They approached the circle of people, one of which was holding a guitar, and Melanie dragged them into sitting down. “Everybody,” with the amount of people still roaming around the grounds, Dipper knew that this wasn’t ‘everybody’, but rather a specific group. “This is Mabel and Dipper. They came by with Candy and Grenda. They’re so outta sight, oh my god.” There was a collective greeting and Dipper sandwiched himself between his sister and Candy, who had taken a seat as well.

“Hey,” another girl, one with red hair and a cockeyed grin, hummed, leaning across Candy’s lap to offer her hand. Again, her grin looked terrifyingly permanent. “My name is Lily.”

“Dipper,” he offered as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” For a moment, he expected her to introduce herself to Mabel, but the brunette had taken more interest in the shirtless guitar player sitting just a few feet away.

“Hey, so, you’re like, really new here, right?”

Hadn’t that been established already? He had _just_ shown up. Still, he offered an awkward nod and pursed his lips. “Mmhm. Yep, we just got here.”

“Oh,” Lily sighed, shifting her weight off of Candy, who seemed too enthralled in the music to care that there was a girl laying on her. “So… You haven’t met Bill yet, right?”

“Nope,” Dipper replied disinterestedly. “Can’t say I have.”

Lily widened her eyes at that and shook her head. “What!? Oh, man, you _have_ to meet him!”

“Who is he?” Mabel had apparently lost momentary interest with the guitar player and turned her attention to Dipper’s conversation. Mabel Pines ignoring a shirtless Casanova  
look-alike in favor of conversation? Miraculous. This point went ignored, of course, because Dipper was curious as well.

The redhead craned her neck to pout at Candy. “You didn’t tell them about Bill?”

“Eh,” the girl shrugged her slender shoulders, disinterestedly. “It never came up. To be honest, I’m just here for the party.” The look that flashed across Lily’s face was one of pure anger, but it was so quick that Dipper wondered if he’d seen it at all before she was back to grinning in his direction.

“Right. Anyway, Bill is… God, how do I explain?” Her features softened into that of a love-stricken idiot as she glanced up to the clouds as if they held the answers. “He’s everything. He’s kindness, he’s warmth, he’s…” She paused, and Dipper took the chance to arch an eyebrow at Mabel, who puckered her lips and widened her eyes, silently showing how comical the other girl sounded; something he had to keep himself from snorting at.

“Bill took me in and showed me that there’s more to life than just drinking and getting stoned and having sex.”

“You’re not stoned right now?” Mabel asked with a tiny giggle to her voice, tipping her head to the side. Given the way this girl talked about Bill and danced around seemingly without a care, Dipper highly doubted she was sober.

“No, no, of course I’m stoned,” she replied, casting a glance to Mabel and her brother. “But I mean… Bill showed me that instead of smoking and drinking to numb myself, I should do it to live in the moment. Instead of having sex to feel something, I should do it to connect with another person- another being on this plane of existence. Like, some people think that’s the highest way to bring two souls together, melting them into one and bringing them as close as two people can be. Do you know what I mean, man?”

“Uh…” Well, this conversation had definitely taken a turn for the strange. Even Mabel who, unlike Dipper, had had numerous partners and sexual encounters stared at the girl as if she didn’t believe what she just heard. “Yeah. Yeah, I get you.”

As soon as he said it, Lily’s face lit up once more. “Yeah, man! Dude,” she turned to another girl to her left and nudged her shoulder. “Man, these guys haven’t met Bill.”

“What?” As the brunette with a daisy chain around her head turned to stare at him, Dipper realized just how uncomfortable he was with the situation. He felt scrutinized and alienated for never meeting a man whom he’d never heard of up until now. Lily nodded, almost sadly, as the brunette girl looked at him the way everyone else did when he said he didn’t care for The Beatles.

“Yeah,” Lily sighed dreamily, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder. “Presley, tell ‘em about Bill.”

“Aw man,” the girl sighed with a small laugh, leaning into Lily’s touch. “Bill is the sweetest guy. The most giving man I ever met. He lets us stay here for free, you know! All of us-”

“Everyone at the party?” Dipper inquires, though he can feel Mabel’s interest beside him.

“Mostly,” Lily answers for her, shrugging. “There’s a few outsiders today, but mostly we crash here. See, me, Melanie, Presley and like four other people stay in that blue house down there.” As she spoke, Lily wrapped an arm around Presley and motioned to the biggest house on the furthest part of the property. The house wasn’t filthy, but it was obviously well lived in. “The yellow one is where Crystal, Florrie, Janis and Ronnie live.” As she said Ronnie’s name she motioned to the shirtless guitar player, who nodded back with a smile.

Dipper let his eyes drift to the last house, the smallest and yet most pristine looking one, resting just a few yards away. “And who’s the white one belong to?”

“That’s Bill’s,” Presley answered, taking a newly lit joint from someone across the group. The bitter smell of burning marijuana wafted to Dipper’s nostrils and he did his best not to choke. Slowly, she took a hit and when she spoke again, her voice was harsh with holding it in. “He lives there alone, mostly, but we all come and visit him.”

As soon as she said it, her eyes widened and she exhaled. “Hey, we should go visit him now! I just know he’d love to meet you guys!”

Just as Dipper was about to protest, Mabel grabbed onto his arm excitedly. “Yes!” she laughed, and though he was 90% sure she just wanted to see what the hype was about, he tried to maintain responsibility.

“I don’t know, it’s getting pretty late. Plus, we kinda owe Wendy an explanation.”

“Oh, shut up, she’s probably swapping spit with Robbie by now.” Dipper’s stomach churned at the thought. “Come on, it’s bad manners not to meet the host of a party.”

How was he supposed to argue with that? Especially with Presley and Lily also staring at him intently, silently willing him to say yes. He pursed his lips and sighed, grabbing the book from his lap. “Fine, but we’ll have to make it quick-” Before he could give a reason as to why, Mabel was standing and hoisting him up by the elbow.

The walk there was short lived, though it did feel like a long time to have three sets of hands on him, pushing and pulling his body towards the house as if he might flee once they let go.

He made it through the door in one piece, thankfully, and took a quick glance around. There were tapestries in the hallway, mostly warm, earth tone tie dyes against the off-white paint of the walls. There had been one, though, that caught the brunette’s attention. It felt more like a painting than a piece of thin fabric, but it was beautifully done. It depicted a minimalist designed pyramid with rounded corners against a gradient black-to-yellow backdrop. In the center of the pyramid, there was a single eye.

Before he could comment on the artwork, the muffled sound of a sitar caught his attention. Turning slightly to face Lily and Presley, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that?”

“Bill,” Presley sighed dreamily. “Come on, I know where he’s at.” She took his hand, then, and it was certainly a nice change of pace than having her shove him from behind. She led him and Mabel to a doorway with a partition much like the Mystery Shack’s.

“Bill?” she sheepishly cooed, parting the beads and peering around them. The sitar playing stopped sharply and the girl started inside, tugging Dipper along with a quiet whisper of ‘come on.’ “We have a couple of guests that wanted to meet you.”

_Like I wasn’t forced into it_ , Dipper thought, restraining an eye roll. “Ooh, fresh meat! This oughtta be fun!” The words and the way they were practically cackled sent shivers down Dipper’s spine, and he would have commented on the sheer creepiness of it had he not caught sight of the source of the high, almost strained sounding voice.

The man sat against a pile of different colored pillows atop a bed or sofa or something else Dipper couldn’t make out through the groups of color and padding. There were rich, vivid shades of reds as deep as blood and greens as tantalizing as cash with deceivingly soft blues and warm beige, nearly the color of the man’s tanned skin. He reclined against the colors with a relaxed posture and smirk, appraising Dipper with assessing, predatory eyes the shade of warm honey left in the sun. Those eyes were anything _but_ warm, though.

_He looks like a sultan or something,_ Dipper silently thought. The comparison worsened his intimidation and he glanced to Mabel, who was all polite smiles and bright, curious eyes. “Gee, kid, no need to look so scared, I was just kidding! Come on in, sit down- Presley, go make ‘em some tea, will ya?”

“I’m fine,” Dipper declined, though the girl had already scurried out of the room.

“Nonsense, I insist! Gracious hosting and all of that junk. Come on, come on, sit down!” After motioning to two beanbag-esque seats on the floor in front of him, Bill picked up the sitar in his lap and began playing again. “So, I’m assuming you already know my name, what’s yours?”

_Well, if that doesn’t sound big headed…_ “I’m Dipper, and that’s Mabel, my twin.”

Amusement flashed across those golden irises that ensnared Dipper, and he spoke again. “Wow, twins? That’s far out. So you’ve never been apart from each other?”

“No, but Dipper’s going to school in Seattle in the fall,” Mabel replied and on top of the initial pang of anxiety from mentioning it at all, Dipper felt a stab of betrayal by how carefree she sounded about it. Was he the only one freaking out? Did Mabel not even care?

The teen watched the man nod slowly, gaze flickering back and forth between the two before resting on Dipper. “Wow, that’s gotta be rough, man. Anyway!” There had only been a moment of sympathy from the blonde before he was all smiles and exclamations once again. “For the sake of politeness, I’m Bill Cipher.”

It was that moment that Presley reentered the room, a glass in each hand filled with amber liquid and ice cubes. “Ah, go ahead and drink up!”

Mabel’s drink was to her lips in an instant, though Dipper paused to cast a cautionary glance to his glass before taking a sip. It was bitter and only barely tasted like tea, but in fear of being rude, he drank it down, anyway. Once it was gone, the brunette set it aside as Mabel asked, “So, what’s with this whole commune thing?”

“It’s not really a commune,” Bill started, strumming the sitar in his hand. _Oh, wonderful, he’s about to tell us that it’s a drug ring or something. Groovy. Gonna die here. He’ll kill us for infiltrating it, and then Grunkle Stan’s gonna have to tell our parents about how we only lasted two weeks here and-_  “It’s a family.” _-Wow, that was cheesy._

“A family?” Mabel asked, curiosity piqued.

Bill nodded and offered a smile. “Yes, a family. A home for lost souls to rest their weary heads.” _This is getting cheesier by the minute._

“It’s true,” Presley hummed, managing to frighten Dipper as he’d forgotten she was even in the room, let alone right beside him. “When I first met Bill, I was shooting up heroin and shit all the time, sleeping around,” As she spoke, her voice dropped and she leaned against the pillows Bill sat on. “I’d had like four abortions from the time I was fifteen. Right now I have two kids that live with my mom. When I came here, I was like you guys. I came to party.” She rolled her head to the side and stared up at the blonde with sun kissed skin, smiling adoringly as he seemingly ignored her. “And then I met Bill. It changed my life, I mean… I haven’t done heroin in months, I don’t even miss it. I’m not just living for myself anymore.” The way she looked up at Bill made Dipper think she wasn’t exactly living for her kids, either.

As soon as she finished speaking, Bill pat her on the head, distorting the daisy chain the slightest bit, and Dipper recalled the flower resting in his own hair. He tugged it down and then glanced over to Bill, who had already been looking in his direction. “So, Pine Tree, huh?”

“What?” Dipper asks, tipping his head. For a moment it felt light, and pleasant, but the feeling left as quickly as it had come.

“Your shirt,” Bill said, motioning to his torso. Dipper immediately dropped his head to look over the Mystery Shack’s logo, a single blue pine tree above a script written ‘I Survived The Mystery Shack Tour!’

“Oh,” Dipper said, glancing back to the blonde whose eyes were on him once again. “Our great uncle’s place, he owns it.” Vaguely, Dipper realized that Bill was paying attention to him. The man, this stranger, wasn’t fawning over Mabel and it… It was rather nice. He’d grown up so used to everyone favoring her for her social ease but now, at that moment, Bill was more interested in _him._ Not her.

He watched Bill nod slowly and then grin, setting the instrument in his lap aside. “The Mystery Shack, huh, Pine Tree? The tour any good? I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh, it’s the worst,” Dipper laughed and once more, his head spun around itself. “It’s all glue and taxidermy, mostly. Wow, shit, what’d you put in that tea, dude?”

“Peyote. Just for fun,” Bill replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if no big deal. If Dipper hadn’t been so busy reeling, he’d demand to know what the fuck was wrong with Bill- Bill, who drugged him and his sister, Bill, who was paying attention to everything he said, Bill who had such a pretty face and wow how was it possible that someone so pretty was interested in Dipper fucking Pines?

But he drugged him and Mabel…

Dipper glanced to his sister and she seemed just as blissed out as he felt. Well, they didn’t seem to be in any danger… And how could it be bad if his head felt _so_ good? His life felt good, for the first time since he’d been accepted to that stupid fucking school- no, that amazing, wonderful school- that he was so eager to go to. Being alive had never felt so good as it had in that single moment. He hadn’t even been able to find it in himself to be angry.

“Oh,” is all he managed to say before relaxing against the mess of pillows surrounding Bill, much like Presley had done.

Bill rested a hand atop his head affectionately and asked, “So, what school are you going to?”

“University of Washington,” he answered, leaning into the touch. Where had his book gone? “I got a scholarship.”

“Oh, so you’re smart, then?”

“Pft,” Dipper scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s true,” Bill replied, ruffling Dipper’s curled tresses. “You seem pretty smart to me.”

The praise made Dipper’s heart and confidence soar with giddiness. Just as he parted his lips to reply, though, the guitar dude from before came tapping on the side of the doorway. Beside him were three girls, all strangers. Well, no, had Dipper seen them in that circle? He couldn’t remember… “Hey, we interrupting something?”

“Ronnie! Yeah, I’ll be there in a second, go ahead!” The guitar player- Ronnie- started down the hallway with the girls following him and Bill stood. “I’m real sorry, Pine Tree, but I’ve gotta go.”

“No, it’s okay, we should probably get going, anyway!” Mabel chirped, standing up. Presley followed suit.

“I can walk them home,” the dark haired girl said, offering her hand to Dipper to help him up. He took the assistance and blinked away the muddy haze from his mind. “I know where the Mystery Shack’s at.”

“Groovy,” Bill laughed, shaking Mabel’s hand. “It was lovely to meet you. And you, Pine Tree,” he offered as he turned to take the teen’s hand and shake just as he’d done for Mabel. As Dipper’s palm met the blonde’s, though, his free hand rested on top of it. “It was so, so nice to meet you. You’re really something special.”

If he’d been sober, Dipper might have noticed how off the situation was, but he felt so _good_ and Bill was so _nice_ to him. His heart leapt and he flashed a grin, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, you too!”

The blonde chuckled and then slowly detached their hands, starting to the door. “You guys should come back tomorrow! There won’t be a party like today, but I’d _love_ to hang out with you. You guys are a riot! See you tomorrow!”

Dipper couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my birthday yesterday and you know what an awesome gift would be?  
> Kudos, comments and/or fanart
> 
> Nah but really, sorry this chapter was so sloppy, I just wanted to introduce Bill so the REALLY fun stuff could begin!


	4. Incense And Peppermints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a really long time but it's like twice the usual length of my chapters almost and I went to the beach (in Oregon, much like our protagonists) instead of actually writing. 
> 
> Have some rushed, half assed smut to make up for it. <3

Dipper leaned against the counter beside the cash register, eyes locked on the ginger sweeping the floor. She was talking. Oh shit, she was addressing him. He needed to reply before it became too obvious he was spacing her off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

“I said,” Wendy began with a laugh, glancing over to him and then back to the accumulating dust pile. “You guys totally ditched yesterday. Where’d you even go?”

Mabel chose then to chime into the conversation. “We went to a party instead of watching you ogle that creepy greaser dude,” she hummed, standing on her tiptoes to shove a box onto a shelf. “How did that turn out, by the way?”

Dipper almost dreaded the inevitable answer, but still listened eagerly as she spoke. “I’ve got a date tonight. We’re gonna go see King Creole at the drive-in.”

“That Elvis movie?”

“Yeah,” Wendy sighed, scooping up the pile of soil from the ground and making way to the garbage can to dispose of it. “He said it’s a double feature with G.I. Blues, but I’ll probably be asleep or swapping spit by the second film.”

Dipper wanted to scowl at that but refrained lest the redhead ask what ‘was up his ass’ much like the last time she mentioned interest in making out with Robbie. Instead, he busied himself with restacking a small pile of some product or another with one hand, as the other supported his chin on the counter.

“Well, I sure am glad the date I’ve got isn’t to the movies,” Mabel hummed. Dipper perked his head up at that because _whe_ n had Mabel gotten a date? More importantly, why didn’t he know about it? Why hadn’t she told him?

The girl was batting her eyelashes at Wendy, who happily grinned. “Woah, summer romance, you’re well on your way to becoming the protagonist of some steamy harlequin novel.”

“Oh god, please, _never_ insinuate that again,” Dipper all but begged. He could almost taste the acidic sting of bile in his throat; and whether that was from the very thought of his sister in a sexual situation or the worry that she was already detaching herself from him, he didn’t know.

Mabel laughed and waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Shh, Dipper, the ladies of the house are talking.” Well, that certainly didn’t help the fear of dismissal, sitting in his stomach. “But yeah, the guy I met at the beach the other day-”

“Gideon?”

“Ew, no! Mermando! The surfer with the long hair and six pack and Spanish accent? Yeah. Anyway, he called me this morning and long story short, I’m going to the aquarium with him tonight! Groovy, right?!”

“Wait, what about going over to Bill’s?” Dipper asked with a pout. They’d planned on going together the night before, she couldn’t just up and ditch him like that… Could she?

“You can go by yourself,” Mabel insisted before pouting a bit. “He seemed to like you better, anyway,” she sniffed, crossing her arms.

At the name, Wendy scrunched her nose in what was possibly the most adorable way possible- or, at least, Dipper thought so. “Wait, Bill who?”

“Cipher,” Dipper replied, though he was semi-unsure of how he retained that information in the first place, given only hearing it once and being high when he had. “His name’s Bill Cipher.”

“Aw, man, high pitched voice, blonde hair, has a weird obsession with pyramids and the color yellow?”

Well, as far as Dipper knew, the yellow thing was new. “I… Guess so?”

Wendy’s face contorted more and she shook her head, leaning on the broom. “I’ve heard really shady things about that guy.”

Shady? How could anything about Bill be shady? Dipper elected to ignore the fact that he served them peyote drugged tea and instead focused on frowning at his redheaded coworker. “What kinda things?”

“Like, that commune he owns? It’s a cult. Everyone that lives there? Cult members.”

While Mabel cooed at the prospect of new gossip, her brother took the route of scoffing in disbelief. “Pfft. Yeah, right. Everyone’s super nice, and nobody was doing anything weird like… like… uh-- what to cults do?”

“I heard they mostly like sacrifice chickens to some voodoo god,” Mabel giggled, jumping up to sit on the cashier’s counter, effectively knocking over the product Dipper had been stacking, much to his chagrin. “And they definitely weren’t doing any of that.”

Still, Wendy seemed unconvinced. “Hey, man, I’m not your mom. I can’t tell you not to chill with him. But I _can_ tell you to watch out, the guy gives me the creeps.”

Neither of the twins answered. Dipper took to pursing his lips and counting the money in the till while Mabel inspected her nails. When it became obvious that both teens were avoiding any semblance of a reply, the woman sighed and set the broom against the shop’s wall. “Well, I’m off. Got a hot date with the concession stand guy and Elvis, who, ironically enough, look a lot alike.”

“Ew, they totally do not!” Mabel laughed as Dipper wrinkled his nose. He could look like Elvis if he tried! Yeah, he could… Uh… He… couldn’t look like Elvis. Not even if he tried. No matter what he did, be it chopping wood or greasing his hair, Dipper Pines would never be Wendy’s type.

This realization put a frown on his face, which went unnoticed by both girls. “Oh come on, black hair, bad boy attitude, tight pants? They might as well be twins.”

Mabel scoffed and shook her head, hopping off of the counter. “Yeah, no offense, but Robbie seems like the type of dude who acts like a bad boy but once a fight breaks out he suddenly decides to become a pacifist.”

The redhead snorted, but did nothing to deny it. “Alright, I get your point. Anyway, I really gotta go. Lock up for me, alright?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Wendy slipped out the door and started out to the main street.

Dipper watched her through the window until her bright orange hair disappeared behind a tree, then turned back to restack the small boxes of whatever it was Mabel knocked over. “So,” he asked with an edge to his voice. “When’s _your_  date?”

“In about an hour,” Mabel replied. She either hadn’t noticed the small hint of betrayal in his tone or ignored it. “We’re going to th-”

“The aquarium, yeah I heard you,” Dipper chuckled, shaking his head and stacking the last box on top of the others. “You go get ready to hang out with fish boy. I’ll finish up down here.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, though she was already scooting off of the counter. “I don’t mind staying and thankyousomuchyou’rethebestbrothereveriloveyoubye!”

Dipper was left alone in the shack with nobody to keep him company apart from the creepy taxidermies and the sound of Mabel’s record player upstairs (which started playing She Loves You by The Beatles as soon as she was up in the attic). He took a cursory glance around and sighed, leaning on his elbow once more. _Guess I’d better get used to this whole being alone thing,_  the teen thought to himself, locking eyes with an “albino” raccoon. He could still see the unbleached spots on the matted fur.

After a few minutes, Stan entered the shack, arms full of a box large enough to hide a body. Not that Dipper suspected him of actually carrying a body around in broad daylight. No, Stan was- hopefully- smarter than that, he’d probably get rid of it discreetly. “Hey, Kid,” the old man greeted as the cardboard box was set down. “Where’s your sister? Her shift doesn’t end for another twenty minutes. It’s bad enough that Wendy asked to leave early.”

“She’s upstairs,” Dipper interrupted his uncle’s babbling. When his grey eyebrows furrowed together, he made sure to add, “I let her go. I told her I’d finish up. It’s pretty slow today anyway.”

Stan softened at that, though Dipper could only assume he was probably still the slightest bit irritated if his frown was anything to go by. “Oh, I see. That’s fine, then. Scoot over,” he grumbled, nudging Dipper away from the cash register. The brunette watched as he opened the till and began tugging the money out. “Got any plans for tonight?”

Was… Stan trying to make conversation with him? Dipper hadn’t exactly pegged Stan as a likable kind of guy, nor as someone who gave much of a rat’s ass what he did; yet here the man was, counting money and asking about Dipper’s social life in a gruff, bordering irritable voice.

“Yeah, I’m actually thinking about going and hanging out with this guy I know.”

“Ah, good old pal time,” Stan chuckled as a reminiscent smile spread over his face. “Just guys being buddies, right? Nothin’ better.”

“Mmhm.” God, this was getting increasingly awkward as it went on. Hands shoved into his pockets, Dipper glanced around the shop for lack of anything better to do, bouncing on his heels.

Beside him, Stan continued to count the money but after a few minutes in the awkward silence he stopped and jerked his chin towards the door. “Go on, go pester your friend.” Dipper could definitely notice a kind act when he saw one, so after calling a small ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, he was out the door and starting towards mainstreet; much like Wendy on her way to her date.

The walk to the commune was considerably shorter this time, now that Dipper knew his way and didn’t have teenage girls chattering about the latest gossip. As he approached the gates, he noticed that the previous group of people had condensed by far. There weren’t as many guests as there had been before, if any, and Dipper recognized nearly all of the remaining people though most of them were too busy carrying things or gardening to offer the same recognition.

Or so he thought.

One of the men, Ronnie or “guitar guy” as he’d previously dubbed him, perked his head up and grinned that all-too set in stone grin that everyone on the commune seemed to wear. “Hey, Dipper, right?”

Someone actually remembering his name after meeting once? Incredible. Truly, a rare phenomena. Though his name was rather unique, he was generally forgotten off the bat as soon as Mabel entered the picture with her bubbly, ensnaring attitude. “Yeah, that’s me. How’s it going?”

“Not too shabby!” The man chipperly hummed, leaning against the post of the fence. “There’s not a whole lot going on. No party, anyway.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Dipper stammered, ready to quit small talking and see Bill already. Not that Ronnie was a bad guy, he just remembered having such an intense connection with the blonde that he was more than eager to see him again. Then again, that may or may not have been the drugs talking, too. “I actually came to talk to Bi-”

“Pine Tree!” The blonde greeted from the doorway of his house, effectively scaring the wits out of his guest. Dipper hadn’t seen him standing there, nor had he expected his shrill voice to carry out so far and so loudly. “Ronnie, let him in already! It’s fine, he’s been invited. Say, where’s your sister?”

“Mabel had a date,” Dipper called back as Ronnie opened the gate and stepped aside to let him enter. At once, he wandered to Bill’s porch steps and offered a smile. “It’s just me and you today.”

He wasn’t sure if he particularly cared for the predatory grin that pulled at the blonde’s lips, but his stomach pleasantly flipped when he tossed his arm around his shoulders. “Just us? Gotta say, I like the sound of that! Come on, let’s go inside.”

All at once, Dipper was being tugged through the door once again though he didn’t mind as much when it was a handful of strangers tugging him to and fro. At least he’d met Bill before, and other than that Bill had been nothing but nice and attentive to him.

As they entered the house, he hardly had time to admire the tapestry in the hallway as he was looking at Bill, appreciating how angular and sharp his face appeared to be or how his cupid’s bow was so prominent and defined, even as he exclaimed, “I’m really glad to have you again, Pine Tree! You doing okay? You seem distracted.”

“Uh,” Dipper sputtered, taken aback by the question. Well, he very well couldn’t say that his attractive face was what had him so distracted, though the smirk playing at his lips suggested that Bill already knew. “The uh… The tapestry! It- It’s really tuff, man.”

The blonde arced a brow at that and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh the one with the pyramid? And here I was, thinking you were staring at my pretty face. Gotta say, I’m hurt!” When Dipper widened his eyes and sputtered out an apology, scared that he‘d actually offended Bill, he shook his head with a hearty laugh. “That was a joke! Calm down, killer!”

Face flushed with embarrassment and relief simultaneously, Dipper let out a nervous chuckle. _Well, at the very least, he isn’t mad at me for not staring at him the way Presley did._ “Ha, yeah. Sorry.”

“What for?” Bill scoffed, tugging the brunette closer. Though Dipper practically melted into his side, he couldn’t help but notice just how the blonde kept him close, as if he was afraid he’d run off should he let go. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Come on, let’s go sit down instead of stare at me all day, huh?”

“We were staring at the tapestry, I thought,” Dipper teased, though his face had gone from flushed to a burning red after Bill implied that he knew just what Dipper had been gazing at.

“Sure we were!” Bill laughed as he guided Dipper to the same room he’d met him in. He’d found his way to the pallet of cushions and pillows, only to pull Dipper down beside him as opposed to seating him on the floor like last time, much to the boy‘s relief. “So, I didn’t really get to know much about you last time. Tell me what turns you on, yeah?”

Dipper Pines knew his interests were varied and great, but nobody had ever bothered to ask about them before. Now that someone had, he didn’t know how to respond. “Well,” he began, frantically trying to recall what he even liked to do. “I’m into books and stuff.”

“Oh, right,” Bill hummed with a nod. “You left your book here, by the way. The Great Gatsby.”

_Oh shit, Grandpa’s book._ “Oh man, where’d you put it?” Dipper asked, eyebrows knitting together. “I mean, that book’s kind of important. It was my grandpa’s, it’s first edition, oh fuck, I shouldn’t have even left the house with it! Oh man, Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me-”

“Chill, kid. Lily’s got it. She’s really careful with books, you know. English student and all that junk.” Dipper noted how disinterested he sounded when talking about the girl. Still, the book wasn’t even his and some English student was reading it somewhere.

“No offense,” Dipper began slowly, watching Bill and hoping he didn‘t come off as rude. “But that’s not even _my_ book. Do you think you could get it back from her?”

For a moment, he’d been afraid that he’d offended Bill because the blonde pouted at him- and gosh, it was an attractive pout- and creased his eyebrow. “Man, sharing is caring, Pine Tree.”

“Well yeah,” he began, shaking his head. For some reason ostricization in the slightest form, the very thought that Bill might disapprove of him, felt like a punch to the gut. “But I mean it isn’t- It’s not mine and-”

“Listen.” Thankfully, Bill stepped in before his babbling _really_ started. “It’s totally okay. I get it. Not your stuff, you don’t want it ruined. I can see this is something really important to you.”

With a slow nod, Dipper breathed a sigh of relief. _He understands_. “Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “Yeah, it’s uh… Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Bill chuckled, lidding his eyes the slightest bit. “Say, why don’t we drink some tea and then go get the book. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Dipper affirmed.

Bill stood and from the angle he was seated at, Dipper was able to get a look at his body. The blonde had broad shoulders and a small, slender waist that led to narrow but nicely sculpted hips- though they might have just _looked_ narrow in comparison to the bell bottom jeans he wore. It seemed just like Bill’s personality, to wear something that flared out with volume and style, or to wear a shirt so brightly colored and ensnaring with pasley prints to catch the eye.

While lost in his own internal monologue, Bill had had time to leave and return with two glasses of tea. “Here, kid,” he offered, holding one of the glasses to him. “Put some hair on that pretty chest of yours.”

“You don’t know how pretty my chest is, you’ve never seen it before,” Dipper snorted as he took a sip and waited to feel as good as he had previously.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Bill’s lips quirk into another smirk- had he smirked at him this often before? “Something that can easily be amended.”

The remark made Dipper damn near choke on the tea and with reddened cheeks he looked up to the just barely-taller blonde. “I- I-”

“You okay there, kid?” Bill laughed in response. The laughter sent a small tinge of embarrassment into Dipper’s very core but nonetheless, the brunette nervously laughed along.

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckled, drinking down more of the tea to avoid saying anything else to further humiliate himself. “Yeah, I’m… I’m good.”

“Sorry, I was just teasing you, Pine Tree. It’s cute when you get all red faced and flustered.”

_Cute?_ The boy sputtered, trying to think of a response other than ‘yeah, your face is nice too.’ To be perfectly fair, Dipper had realized early on during puberty that he wasn’t strictly into girls. He’d had his fair share of experimenting with both boys and girls, even some that said they didn’t fit a set gender binary, and he came to find that he liked everyone equally.

Finding out his sexual orientation early on, though, often led to misunderstandings. He was never sure if the cute guy beside him in the school library was _really_ flirting with him or just joking. He was never sure if the quarterback coming onto him was sober enough to know what he was doing, or if he’d literally kill Dipper once he remembered. Was this guy serious about kissing his neck and saying he loved him, or was he just making fun of him in the cruelest way possible?

But… something told him Bill wasn’t just blowing smoke.

Then again, that could have been wishful thinking paired with the pleasant, rushing effects of the magical tea Bill was so gracious to give him. Like before, all of his anxieties melted away as soon as his head began to shift. Everything felt perfect again and with a satisfied hum, he laid back against the mess of pillows Bill was usually surrounded by.

He could see the blonde watching him, but Dipper felt far too amazing to feel self conscious over it. He turned his head to catch Bill’s gaze and offered a smile. “What’s with the staring?”

“I already told you,” the blonde began, leaning a bit closer. Much to the teen’s pleased amazement, he brought his hand up and just hardly caressed his cheek. “You’re cute.”

Once again, the compliment sent pleasant tingles up Dipper’s spine; much like how he’d imagine a cat reacting to affectionate petting. And also like a cat, he leaned into the touch. “Cute, huh?” he all but purred, inhibitions having disintegrated with his sobriety. “I’ve never thought of myself as cute.”

The next words out of Bill’s mouth had Dipper’s cheeks flushing and hi heart sputtering in his chest. “What about ‘beautiful’?”

“No,” Dipper choked, letting his eyes roam up and down the man’s face. _He’s probably thought it about himself plenty, though. He should, anyway._  “I’ve never thought I was beautiful.”

That seemed to be an opening for Bill, one he was waiting for, because he grinned and his feather light touch began to graze the edge of Dipper’s hairline, then down his jaw. “I want to change that, Pine Tree.”

Maybe it was the sentiment, or maybe the low, huskiness lacing his whisper, but the words took the brunette’s breath away. His gaze lowered to the lips closing in on his own and before he could even think of a reply, he was bracing himself for a kiss.

At first, their lips just tapped together. Dipper huffed indignantly, worried that he’d gotten himself worked up for nothing, but then Bill was pulling back slightly to look at him. The blonde stared at him intently with those gorgeous, frightening eyes that watched him from beneath the awning of his lashes; his gaze intense enough to churn Dipper’s stomach.

Then, all at once, Bill’s grip on him tightened and Dipper was being pulled forward into a _real_ kiss. Their lips crashed together so surprisingly that the teen made a soft sound against his lips as his hands lifted to grab onto his shoulders for leverage. His fingers tangled into the fabric of his yellow, rectangle patterned vest and he was pulled closer, as if his vice-like grip had spurred Bill on and landed him a special seat in the man’s lap.

Straddling his hips and settling on his thighs, Dipper unclenched his fists and wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders. For a moment, clarity reentered his mind and Dipper thought about how quickly this was moving- that maybe, he wouldn’t be as enthusiastic about this if he wasn’t tripping balls; but the thought was quickly chased away when Bill’s tongue pried his lips apart.

With a small sound of encouragement, not a whimper nor a moan, the teen allowed Bill’s tongue to slip past his lips with ease. His head began swimming around itself again and somehow, he knew it wasn’t just the peyote in the tea. The kiss had him reeling, had him desperately grasping at any part of Bill that he could; namely, his hair.

His fingers tugged at the golden strands, lips and tongue working passionately against the blonde’s own, which reciprocated just as happily; swallowing Dipper’s sighs of delight and making his mind whirl while his heart beat so hard he thought that Bill could surely feel it as their chests glued together. Not that he minded. Dipper wanted Bill to know how great he was- how great he made him _feel_. And god, did he feel great.

Wriggling comfortably in Bill’s lap, Dipper began to feel… something. He felt something between them, an indescribable warmth on a different plane than their physical bodies. _I feel the life between us,_  Dipper thought. _I literally feel- oh my god, did I really just think that?_

At the thought, he stiffened and pulled back with a snort, earning a confused huff from the blonde. “What’s so funny, Pine Tree?”

“I’m-” Dipper began, pausing until his giggle fit passed, though for a moment it only worsened by the irritated purse of Bill‘s lips. “I’m so fucking high right now.”

Bill’s look of frustration shifted into one of amusement and with a small laugh, his hands were on Dipper’s sides. “Oh, Pine Tree,” he chuckled, urging the teen to lay back on the pillows surrounding him at all times. Slowly, he began to crawl up his body until his face was easily nestled into the crook between Dipper’s neck and his shoulder. “You really _are_ cute, you know.”

His sentence was punctuated with a small kiss to the skin over Dipper’s pulse point, earning a small giggle from the teen who laid his head back to give more room. However, the giggling abruptly stopped when the point of Bill’s teeth nipped the same spot he’d kissed mere moments before, eliciting a gasp from the boy as he grasped tightly onto his vest once more.

Deciding that the vest was too much, Dipper began tugging at it until it fell from his shoulders. The blonde didn’t seem to mind, though, as he continued laying kisses and bites in seemingly sporadic patterns on Dipper’s neck while shoving the cumbersome article of clothing to the floor. The hands resting just beneath Dipper’s ribs began to roam up his chest, dragging his bright orange shirt up to his chin. Just as Dipper thought Bill was going to press his thumbs to his nipples- as he practically ached for it, they were moving upward again until he gripped him on either side of his jaw and guiding him into a forceful, passionate kiss.

Eager to reciprocate, Dipper pressed his body upward and pulled Bill down against him, only slightly cringing as their teeth crashed together. After parting his lips, Bill’s tongue laved over his own and the blonde began to rock his hips slightly against his, swallowing the gentle mewls spilling from his mouth and into the other’s. “Feel good, kid?” Bill murmured softly, breaking the kiss just to mumble against his lips.

In response, Dipper nodded vigorously and reached down to hold Bill’s forearms, frightened that he might stop holding onto his face, that he might release the teen from his grasp. One hand really _did_ leave his face, but before Dipper could make any sound of protest, he was moaning at the feeling of Bill gripping him through his pants.

“Your moans are even prettier than I thought they’d be,” Bill praised, palming Dipper to full hardness through his jeans. “And I’ve thought a _lot_ about it.”

The words ignited something life a fire in his lower stomach, something akin to the same feeling of life he’d felt earlier, but this time he didn’t laugh about it. His mouth was too occupied with moaning to laugh at anything. “Bill,” he breathed, arching himself into the man’s touch. His legs spread to welcome his hand and within moments, Bill was unbuttoning the denim and tugging the layers of clothing down and to Dipper’s thighs. Lifting his hips to assist the removal of his underwear and pants, the brunette watched Bill through his eyelashes, curious as to what his next move was.

He hadn’t been on the receiving end of too much, and the thought that Bill would want to go all the way was terrifying and exciting to Dipper. He couldn’t wait to see the outcome, eager to feel good and- hopefully- make Bill feel good as well. Before he had the chance, though, the mess of blonde hair was between his thighs and those golden, dangerous irises were on his, staring right into him and setting Dipper’s nerves alight.

Swallowing thickly, Dipper leaned up on his elbows to watch as the blonde laved his tongue over his inner thigh with a tiny hum, like he hadn’t a care in the world. A lazy smirk played at his lips and the sight of it made Dipper’s chest ache in the best kind of way; and though the smirk aroused Dipper to no end, it was the bite that Bill administered to his thigh that made his cock twitch.

“Jesus, kid,” Bill laughed, fingertips trailing higher and higher up his leg until he was pressing against the apex of his legs, massaging Dipper’s innermost thighs and drawing tiny sighs of approval from his throat. “You’re more sensitive than I thought you’d be. I love it!”

Stating the obvious had the same effect on Dipper as a compliment would have and he wasn’t sure why, but mentioning his sensitivity brought a bright blush to his normally pale face. There was no answer, Dipper couldn’t think of anything to say; but even if he could, he would have been silenced by the moan crawling through his lips when Bill dipped his head down to lazily suck at the tip of his cock.

Dipper clenched his fists at his sides, gripping onto the fabric of the pillows beneath his lower back, supporting his body just as much as his elbows. “Bill,” he whined slipping his eyes shut and laying his head back. The man gave a hum against the flesh and Dipper couldn’t help but hiss as his tongue swirled around the slit.

Bill’s mouth was warm and wet and sucking so lightly, tongue teasing just beneath the glans. Each tiny suck and application of pressure sent jolts of electricity into Dipper’s very core. “More,” he pled, pushing his upwards and further into Bill’s mouth. “Please, Bill, more.”

A tiny, quick exhale, something like a chuckle, left Bill’s nose and then his lips were dragging down, circling Dipper’s shaft and drawing a loud moan from the overly sensitized teenager as he hollowed his cheeks and began bobbing his head. His administrations had gone from teasing to fast paced, determined movements as if trying to bring Dipper closer and closer to the edge; which he was.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Dipper was shaking. His legs trembled against Bill’s touch and his spine arched him off of the bed. Each sound from his mouth was a desperate moan and he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head to watch the mess of blonde hair bobbing up and down between his thighs. For the slightest moment, Bill slowed his movements, then pulled off. “Come on, Pine Tree, help me out here!” he all but laughed before flatly running his tongue from base to tip. “Tell me how nice you feel.”

“I feel,” Dipper gasped, pausing to swallow thickly. During the pause, Bill dropped his head again, stretching his lips over the sensitive flesh of Dipper’s cock. “Oh fuck, I feel great!” The words were rushed and came out in a moan as he felt Bill take him into his throat. The man’s eyes flickered up to meet Dipper’s gaze and the honey colored irises only spurred his words on. “Your mouth feels so good, Bill. I- it feels so perfect…”

The words obviously pleased the man because he groaned around Dipper’s cock and began bobbing his head faster, sucking the slightest bit harder. Within moments, Bill’s nails were biting into Dipper’s thighs as he grabbed them, and the teenager writhed beneath his touch as he sucked fervently, letting his lips vibrate every so often with appreciative hums.

If Dipper’s head hadn’t been swimming before from the drugs, it definitely was now with hormones and absolute pleasure. “Ah Bill, it’s so good,” he sighed, knitting his eyebrows together and gripping onto the blonde tresses. “So, so good. Fuck, your mouth is perfect.” The babbling only intensified as Bill’s administrations did and finally, after minutes of praising whatever Bill was doing, Dipper felt the oncoming coil of orgasm tighten in his stomach.

Dipper tried to give a warning, tried to exclaim that he was so close he could taste it, but Bill either didn’t understand or didn’t care. The blonde continued to suck, hum and grasp anywhere he could on the teen until finally, the brunette tossed his head back with a loud moan, releasing right into Bill’s mouth.

As he basked in the afterglow of orgasm, Dipper cast his gaze to Bill as he pulled away, swallowing the mouthful of cum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Dipper’s head felt even hazier now as he was reeling from drugs and orgasm, and he hardly caught on as Bill asked, “Feel good, Pine Tree?”

“Feels perfect,” he murmured, sitting up slowly and rethinking over his words. “Felt. Feel? I don’t know, I still feel pretty good.” Talking really didn’t seem like a good idea at that moment, so he stayed silent and urged his pants up.

Bill sat beside him and laughed lightly, laying back against the pillows and tugging Dipper against him. “Kid,” he hummed as the brunette relaxed into his chest. “I really think we’re gonna be _great_ friends.”

“I hope so,” Dipper admitted through puffed breaths as he tried to even his breathing. He slipped his eyes shut, nuzzling his face into the crook of Bill’s shoulder. “I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so, this was super duper rushed, I miiiiight go back and edit it here soon but I was just kinda eager to finish it and push it out to you guys. Next chapter's definitely gonna have better quality.


	5. Light My Fire

As Dipper trekked through the foliage and evergreen trees, he noticed the sun coming up through the small spaces peeking between the branches of the forest. That wasn’t good. That meant it was somewhere around six or so in the morning, and he hadn’t bothered to call the Shack to check in. In fact, he had just told Stan he was going to see a friend and then disappeared. Even though he was still high from the peyote tea, just enough so that the woods seemed to move around him, he could easily assume Stan would freak out once he got in the door. The man might not be a responsible caregiver, but he was still a caregiver nonetheless, and seemed to enjoy barking orders at the teenager as well as find any reason to be irritated with him.

To his right, Dipper faintly heard a brook, babbling in response to the birds singing their songs of the morning. _Mabel would love to be here for this,_  he thought with a hint of bitterness at the fact that she ditched him for a last minute date. Though his sister was the family’s honorary flower child, and he was the furthest thing from a hippie, he could still stop to appreciate the relaxing music that nature made together, from the animals to the rustling trees that could be alive.

Dipper slowed his steps to take it all in, but inevitably, he found the road to the Mystery Shack and continued down it, momentarily reminded that he was facing an argument when he got in. The sound of his feet tapping the pavement offered a rhythm like a drum to accompany the sounds of nature that sounded almost as beautiful as he felt. He felt  _beautifully._

 He had since Bill kissed him.

The night spent at Bill’s had left Dipper with a feeling of everlasting warmth and security, something out of a romance novel. Stepping over a pothole in the road, Dipper thought to himself that this must have been how Gatsby felt for Daisy, how Jane felt about Rochester or Beatrice about Benedick. He felt strongly, without common sense or reserve. These thoughts consumed him, filled his very mind until he found himself walking up the porch steps, avoiding the railing beside the stairs.

As soon as the teenager was through the door, Mabel was rushing into the room, followed by Stan. “Where _were_ you!?” the girl demanded, and Dipper nearly felt guilty for the look of terrified worry creasing her eyebrows. “We stayed up all night because we thought-”

“We thought the worst, kid,” Stan all but growled, putting Dipper on the spot. Did he feel guilty for keeping them up with worry? Yes. Did he regret the night he spent with Bill? Not a bit.

“I’m fine,” he replied with a frown. “Sorry for scaring you guys.”

After speaking, he started towards the attic but felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face a very frustrated old man. “No, kid, where _were_ you until five in the morning?” Dipper wasn’t sure if Stan sounded more angry, worried, or authorative. “You don’t stay out until five unless you’re shooting something up or unless you’re getting laid. Which is it?”

_Fuck, I can’t say both,_ Dipper thought. Though he hadn’t shot anything up, he was still vaguely high from the tea. “I… I was just over at a friend’s.”

“Yeah, you said that, but we want the _truth_.” He kept saying ‘we’ and Mabel hadn’t really said anything thus far.

Glancing to his sister, he found the same worry that Stan tried to convey through anger. “I-”

“Don’t say you were at a friend’s house again-” As Stan spoke, his voice held a hint of dangerous venom. “-just tell us whether or not you’re high.”

Well, he couldn’t say no, not without being a liar. He was still a little high, after all. Finally, Mabel piped in. “You were over at Presley’s, weren’t you?” she demanded, then laughed before Dipper could correct her. “Oh man, Grunkle Stan, he was with a _girl_!”

“A girl?” The man softened at that, then looked over Dipper’s face. “That true, kid?”

“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper began, his voice shaking with gentle fear as well as gratefulness towards his sister for covering his ass. “I was- I’m really tired after- after uh, doing _that_ all night.”

“Jesus, Kid,” Stan laughed, rolling his eyes. The hand on his shoulder lifted, then clapped down almost painfully and Dipper thought that had anybody but Mabel given that excuse, he'd still be arguing with him. “Why didn’t you say you were with a dame? Oh man, I thought the worst! Just make sure you call next time you’re gonna be late, okay? Sorry for blowing a gasket, but you just… You remind me so much of your grandpa, you know? I’ll be damned if you go out like he did.”

_That’s right, Grandpa Ford died of a drug overdose…_ Suddenly, Dipper felt incredibly guilty. He must have worried Stan so badly, even if he tried to hide it under the guise of aggression. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

Stan laughed, completely at ease then, and slapped his hand down on the center of Dipper’s back. After letting the boy recover from a surprised, sputtering cough, the old man laughed, “It’s alright, Dippy-” _did he just-_ “-I bet she was a real cutie, huh? Who was it, again? Was it that Tambry girl always walking around? She’s a-”

“I think-” Mabel interrupted, taking her brother by the arm, gingerly tugging him from Stan’s grasp. He’d have to thank her later. “-that we should get to bed. It’s almost seven in the morning and we were up waaaaay too late. All of us. You sleep too, Grunkle Stan.”

“Hey, I’m the adult here-”

“Bed!”

Dipper watched as the man, usually so prideful, stared at his niece for a moment and started for the bedroom just beyond the living room. “I’ll have you know, I’m going to bed because I _want_ to, not because you told me to,” he called behind himself before disappearing completely.

Though he still felt the slightest pang of guilt, Dipper laughed lightly as he followed his twin up the stairs. Mabel was small, like him, but could intimidate grown ass men for the fun of it while he wasn’t sure he could intimidate a butterfly stuck to a marshmallow. While almost sad, the situation was funny to him.

“So,” Mabel chirped, unceremoniously yanking her brother into the attic and shutting the door. At once, she was shoving him against the wood of the door and grinning wildly at him. The sight would have terrified him had it been anyone besides her. “How was it? Was he good? Oh my god, I need details! You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine-”

At once, she bombarded him with questions and as much as he adored his sister, he… didn’t want to share any memories of the night before with her. He didn’t want to tell her about Bill’s eager touches, about his lost book, about how many kisses they’d shared that left him blind with lust. Dipper… Dipper wanted Bill all to himself.

“Mabel,” he began. The girl’s face lit up, excited to hear of her brother’s escapades and he almost felt bad for shooting that down. “I’m… I’m really high, still. We had a lot of tea and my head’s still spinning, you know?”

“Ohhhh, I get it,” she scoffed, though Dipper saw how her face fell. He wondered what she was thinking, if she had realized the wedge between them that frightened him so, or if she was merely disappointed that he wasn’t sharing any sort of gossip that morning. “Once you’re sober in the morning, you’re telling me everything!” Her hands, previously pinning him to the door, were off of him and she was practically dancing to her bed. “I don’t want a _single_ detail left out! I wanna hear all about that sweet, sweet bod.”

“You’ve been hanging around Wendy too much,” Dipper laughed at her terminology, slipping his pants down to climb into bed clad in boxers and his shirt, the same shirt that Bill had earlier pulled off of him and- Dipper stopped himself before his face became too noticeably red.

After pulling the thin blankets to his chest, the teen leaned over and shut off the lamp on his night stand. After mumbling a quick goodnight to his twin, Dipper’s head was hitting the pillow and the last thought he had before falling asleep was that he didn’t want to explain anything in the morning.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. He woke up sometime after noon and made his way downstairs, following the smell of something cooking and the sound of dishes rattling around as if frantically being tossed to the side and placed somewhere else. Since they’d come to the Mystery Shack, Mabel had dutifully made breakfast for them each morning but never had Dipper heard her acting so frantically in the kitchen before. Whatever she was making had to be elaborate for her movements to be so rushed. He wondered what dish could be so difficult for the culinary inclined twin.

As he stepped on the bottom step, he was overcome with the smell of… Pancakes? No, _burnt_ pancakes. Pancakes were the first thing Mabel learned how to cook on her own, she’d perfected making them since their twelfth year of life and there was no way she would burn the meal. Dipper poked his head around the corner of the kitchen, just as Stan yanked his hand away from the griddle, screaming an obscenity in retaliation to a burn on his finger.

“Good morning?” Dipper began as he stepped around the corner, glancing around for his twin. His great uncle spun around to face him, nearly losing his footing and the teenager observed the mess of flour, spices, and broken eggs cluttering the countertop. “Where’s Mabel?”

“Gone,” Stan answered, hurrying to flip the already charred flapjack in the pan, muttering a small curse beneath his breath. The simple word had Dipper’s anxiety rearing it’s head as he started to the table and took a seat. _What if she ran away? What if she decided that she was sick of it here and-_ “She went on a date with that beach bum.”

“Mermando?”

“Yeah, that’s the one! Weird name for a kid, if you ask me,” Stan huffed before coughing up some phlegm and spitting it into the sink in a disgusting display that had Dipper wanting to gag. How uncivilized _was_ his family? Had his grandfather been more polite in his life? Was that the attribute that often had his family comparing he and his late grandpa? He wondered about his grandfather as his uncle set a plate of black, misshapen hotcakes before him and gingerly pushed the bottle of syrup towards him.

Dipper studied the food for a moment before he looked up to Stan, whose gaze was fixed on his nephew’s plate and his eyebrows creased. He looked almost ashamed that he’d ruined something as simple as pancakes, and while Dipper would be the first to make a snarky comment, he was in no place to do so. Mabel was the cook in the family, not him.

Still, the pancakes looked less than appetizing. Trying to be polite as possible, Dipper lifted his hand and carefully pushed his plate away. “I’m not so hungry this morning, Grunkle Stan.”

“Right,” the man murmured in a low gruff. “How’s about we go to the diner instead?”

“Grunkle Stan, I’m starving.”

“That’s what I thought, kid.” Stan laughed then and made to the other side of the kitchen to grab his car keys from the hook in the wall beside the fridge. “You can help me clean up the mess when we get back.” Though Dipper didn’t complain, he hoped for a random disaster to strike so that he wouldn’t have to help the man with the mess of a failed breakfast.

After an awkward silence filled with the gentle static of the radio playing Jefferson Airplane and then The Doors in their short drive to the diner. They entered, they sat down, and they were given real food before either of them actually spoke.

“You know, I’m sorry for uh… going ape on you last night.”

Dipper paused the for raising to his lips in favor of looking up at the man, who sheepishly occupied himself by dusting off the table. “It’s uh… It’s fine. You really don’t have to try being hip to the lingo, Grunkle Stan.”

The man laughed lightly and shook his head. “I’m serious, though. It wasn’t okay for me to explode like that. You’re of age, you can go out and do what you want. Go live your life, go be young while you can! Just…” The man paused and sat up straight, arms crossing over his chest, as if he was uncomfortable with the all too sober atmosphere in the booth now. “Just be careful. You’re too much like him for your own good. You’re a smart kid, though, smarter than that knucklehead ever was.”

This was the most genuine that Dipper had ever seen the man and the fact that he’d scared him into having a real talk with him was a frightening and guilt inducing thought within itself. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he apologized, setting his forkful of hash browns back down onto the plate. To his understanding, Stan and his brother had been twins and he couldn’t imagine losing Mabel in such a horrific way.

Stan waved the apology away, pointing his glance out to the parking lot beyond the diner window. _Is he avoiding looking at me?_ Dipper thought before the older of the two began to speak. “It’s fine, I just need you to be careful is all. Your grandpa, he… We used to be really close, like you and Mabel. We were the best of pals, y’know? Of course you do, your sister is pretty much your life, kid.” The sentiment made Dipper shrug, but he continued. “I was the one who found him. He’d taken off to go to a party and when he came home he told me he was sick and was going to bed but I was angry at him. It was over something stupid, I don’t even remember what, but I think it was more than that. I dunno, it was like I was finding every reason to be mad to hide the fact that I was jealous he started getting a life of his own. That night, though, he went to his room and I remember yelling that I wished he’d drop dead. I felt really bad about it but when I went to apologize, he-” Stan stopped himself there, tight-lipped and gripping his biceps with nearly bruising fingers. His gaze outside had gone from curious to hostile and Dipper couldn’t help but feel sadness for both his uncle and grandfather. He was sad that those were the last words Stan said to him, sad that Stan was obviously so angry, but mostly sad that he’d brought those memories flooding back by staying out the night before.

“Look, Dippy,” Stan finally sighed, turning to look at his great nephew. “Family is everything, okay? When the world gets cold and turns it’s collective back on you, family is all you’ve got. Someday I’ll be gone, the world will change, and all your friends could decide to up and leave at anytime, but you know who’ll always be there? Mabel. Your _family._ I want you to remember that, okay?”

The teen nodded slowly to show he understood, then said “I’ll remember that. Family is everything.”

“Good.” Shifting around to grab his wallet, Stan chuckled as if trying to revive the perkier mood between them. As he tossed the money for the bill and especially large tip for the waitress onto the table, he cleared his throat. “Now, we should go. We’ve got a mess to clean up in the kitchen.”

That wasn’t the case, however. After a car ride that should have been much less cheerful given the previous conversation, the men stepped inside to loud music playing from the radio in the kitchen. Mabel sang along, off key, and came out, sweeping the floor and shaking her hips to the tune of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough as she belted the lyrics. She was so enthralled in the music that she hadn’t noticed her family members enter.

Dipper snickered just after the passionate screaming about how no river was wide enough to keep the lovers apart, catching Mabel’s attention. She turned on her heel and grinned, unaffected by the thought that she’d been caught singing into the broom like a microphone. “Came back and you dorks were missing! Kitchen’s clean, by the way. Whoever made breakfast should never attempt to touch a stove again. I’m begging.”

Dipper laughed and nudged his uncle in the side before starting forward and taking the push broom from his sister. “Judging by the American Bandstand worthy performance we walked in on, your date went well?”

“We-eeeeell,” Mabel grinned, rolling her eyes bashfully, arms crossing behind her back. The girl spun on her heel and skipped back towards the hallway giddily. “Let’s just say I’ll remember you little people when I sing for Ed Sullivan on Wednesday.”

“You sound sure of that,” Dipper laughed, setting the broom on a nearby wall and starting to the attic behind her. Knowing his sister, she’d want to talk about the date and, hopefully, she’d forgotten about wanting details of his own love life. Once up in the attic, he shut the door and watched Mabel flounce to her bed, dark green skirt billowing out behind her before throwing herself onto her bed. “You’re just too good to be true,” she happily began singing, looking over to Dipper with a cheeky grin. “Can’t take my eyes off of you,”

They sang a few bars together before erupting into a fit of laughter and he made his way to his bed until it died down and Mabel spoke again. “God, I dunno, he’s just… He’s so sweet and funny and _charming._ Ugh, I want to kiss him all over hid dumb face!” Mabel groaned before pulling a pillow over her face. Muffled by the fabric, she yelled out, “He’s cuter than George Harrison!”

“Even cuter than Paul McCartney?” Dipper teased, to which his sister pulled the pillow down and shot him a glare.

“Now you’re pushing it.” She snorted and sat up before offering a grin. “Hey, so how was your time at Bill’s last night?”

Now that Dipper had sobered up, he wasn’t as infatuated with Bill as he had been the night before, but having him brought to the front of his mind resurrected the giddy butterflies in his stomach. He sighed and laid back against his pillows. “He’s a nice guy. We drank tea and talked and-” he paused and his face reddened at the memory of vigorous fucking; from blowjobs to fingering to actually going all the way once or twice. His eyes averted from his sister’s eagerly awaiting face and he glanced at the bookshelf, hitching on to the empty space between Much Ado About Nothing and The Dunwich Horror; right where Gatsby should be. “Shit! He still has my book!”

“Calm down, you can get it later,” Mabel scoffed, crossing her arms behind her head. “Bill’s having another party tonight, Grenda told me so. Wanna go?”

And of course he did. Any excuse to be around Bill was a good excuse. Hours later, the twins and their friends made their way to the gated in property with three houses and a tan skinned man who showed him affection like he’d never known. The party had been going hard when they showed up, and at once the group was ushered into Bill’s house.

As soon as they stepped foot through the gates, Dipper was maneuvering around guests and residents alike to get to the porch. Beside him, Mabel laughed about how eager he was to see his boyfriend; a remark which he ignored in favor of stepping inside of the open door. The house was a bit more full this time, and there were people lingering beside the pulled back beaded curtain. Dipper’s heart dropped at the sight of numerous people surrounding Bill- many hanging off of his side and laughing at something he probably said- but it leapt when the blonde looked up at him with a grin.

“Pine Tree!” the man cheered, urging a blonde girl off of him. “Make room,” he scolded before turning his attention back to the teen as the girl stood and left his side. “Come sit with us!”

The brunette did as he was told, his sister following closely behind, though she opted to take a seat within the crowd when it became obvious that there was only room for Dipper to sit beside the man. Despite how comfortable he was while alone with Bill, Dipper couldn’t help but feel the slightest wracking of his nerves in front of everyone, especially when Bill slid his arm around him. Would they know about them? Would they know they were… Well, what even were they?

Boyfriends.

No.

Lovers?

Friends?

What _were_ they?

The constant wondering left Dipper with increasing anxiety, worse than whenever he thought about leaving for college. Vaguely, he realized that keeping his thoughts occupied by Bill had left him little time to think about college, but he was too anxious about their relationship status to feel thankful for it.

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

Bill’s voice had pulled him out of his thoughts and snapped him back to reality. “Uh,” the brunette began, casting his wade, doe-eyed gaze to the older man. _God, he’s so gorgeous. Like a god or something..._ “Nothing much.”

“Really?” Bill asked, arching a pale brown eyebrow. “Because you’re shaking. Like a leaf, Pines!”

“Am I?” Was he really trembling against Bill’s side? Did the crisis over the man seriously have him shivering with nerves? “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t worry about it. I know what’ll calm your nerves, though!” The hand that wasn’t around Dipper’s shoulders reached around and snapped in a girl’s face. “Hand me the pipe.”

Like a piece of putty in Bill’s hand, the girl offered the eerily emotionless grin that had practically become trademark here and handed Bill a small, blue and white glass pipe with a burnt green substance inside of the bowl. _Oh… Oh man…_ “Is… Is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s pot, Pine Tree,” Bill replied, giving the boy’s arm a small nudge. “You should smoke some. No, no, I _insist,_ ” Bill’s voice darkened the slightest bit and the pipe was placed before his face, obstructing his nervous stare to Bill’s oddly sober face. “You’re going to smoke this. It‘ll make you feel better,”

“Ah,” Dipper tried stalling. He’d never smoked pot before, and he’d only ever heard terrible things about how pot killed brain cells and ate your money; erego, he wasn’t eager to smoke. Not even at Bill’s request. But then again, did he really want to look like a fool in front of his… whatever Bill was to him? “A little demanding, aren’t we?”

He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking as he took the pipe from him anyway, swallowing thickly at the idea of doing drugs. Then again, it was naturally grown… Peyote was probably more dangerous than pot and he‘d done just fine with it. With a finalized nod, he brought the pipe to his lips. From beside him, Bill brought the small Camel cigarette lighter to the bowl.

The teen inhaled the smoke, forcing himself not to let his breath hitch as it burned his throat and chest. He could practically feel it filling his lungs and once he deemed it acceptable, he released the smoke with a harsh cough. Naturally, the cough made it so much worse and he couldn’t stop hacking.

Mabel stood and began patting his back, but for fear of embarrassing himself, Dipper batted her away. “I’m fine,” he choked, eyes watering. “I’m okay!”

“Here,” Bill offered from beside him, though he was laughing. There was a glass in front of his face quite suddenly and even though Dipper knew exactly what it’s contents were, he took a big sip with a gracious hum as it soothed the sting in his throat. “Better?”

Dipper turned and offered a weak smile to the blonde, nodding gratefully and once again admiring the beauty that was his face. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Anytime, Pine Tree,” Bill hummed, handing the glass back to someone in the large crowd surrounding them. The man’s arm linked around his waist and Dipper couldn’t help but feel like the royalty he’d compared Bill to on his very first visit. He sat atop a throne made of the finest pillows with someone as charismatic as the king of the world at his side.

He remained at Bill’s side for the remainder of the night, sharing in the laughter and the drugs that he and everyone else provided. Much to his surprise, Mabel stayed with him, too, right at his side should he need her, for hours at a time. Even as Bill pulled him into a kiss and rendered him to bashful mumbles when the blonde said he would run away with the teen someday; even when someone walked into the room and complained that someone called their little family a cult and Bill assured them that they shouldn’t listen to any sort of accusations like that. She even stayed by his side when the sun began to creep over the top of the trees and she suggested going home, only to be told by Bill that they _were_ home.

And Dipper liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRITING IS HARD, AND SO IS DEALING WITH BEING A GROWN UP.


	6. I'm A Believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, an on time chapter! With smut!!! Golly, gosh, gee whiz!!  
> Really, though, I'm sorry updates have been really undependable lately, I've got a lot of stuff going on. Comments always appreciated!

A month had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and the twins had found themselves being sternly talked to one July afternoon, just after arriving home from another sleepover at Bill’s. At first, the Pines siblings had just stayed over during a weekend or two, then they began to stay during weeknights, until finally they had practically started staying on the man’s property more than the Mystery Shack.

Dipper hadn’t seen a problem with it. In fact, it was the exact opposite of a problem for him. He got to see Bill daily, he was sometimes invited to sleep beside the blonde and Bill asked for little in return. Not to mention the mind blowing sex, that was definitely a plus. If he could stay in the man’s bed all day, he definitely would.

When he tried to explain that their staying with friends was the exact _opposite_ of a problem, Stan snapped at him. “No, kid, this is a big problem! Neither of you are ever here, you always come home smelling like you haven’t showered in a week- hell, your hair is down to your shoulders and so greasy that I could wring it out into a pan and make French fries!”

The brunette rolled his eyes and stayed seated on the counter of the shop. Mabel was seated beside him, close enough for him to feel her tense when they were yelled at. In an act of comfort, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Grunkle Stan,” he began, trying hard to keep a level head. “We’re eighteen. In a couple months, we won’t see each other much anymore-” It surprised him how easily he could say that now, how he’d come to terms with it. Judging by the gasp and the squeeze of his hand, it surprised Mabel, too.

“Dipper!” she scolded, shaking her head. “We’ll visit each other!”

“Well, yeah, but I mean how often will that happen?” he asked with a frown. He turned his gaze from his great uncle’s angry, hardened face to look at his sister. She didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, the girl bit into her bottom lip and turned her head, clenching her hand around Dipper’s.

Stan interjected then, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Listen, I’m not saying you can’t go out and have a good time! I was a teenager too, remember? I’m just saying that you guys haven’t been home for the better part of a month and you’ve been missing work.”

Dipper and Mabel had talked about this. Neither of them had felt it very fair that they needed to work at all, but now that they had the opportunity to say so, Dipper’s usually outspoken sister fell silent. What was she so _afraid_ of? Stan wouldn’t hurt them, after all. Would he..? How well did he _really_ know the man, other than the admittedly unflattering stories he’d heard from his mother? He recalled how intimidated he’d been upon his arrival and now… Well, now Dipper tried to figure out why he felt safer with Bill than he did with his own uncle.

Safe or not, he needed to speak up for his sister. “To be fair,” he began with a pointed frown. “It’s summer. We shouldn’t be working, anyway! We aren’t even getting paid!”

“You’re earning your keep, damnit!” Stan yelled. Dipper took note on the way he looked as though he was going to continue but paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. The teenager patiently waited for him to continue, speaking only when he was sure there was no continuance.

“Bill doesn’t make us earn our keep,” he said slowly. In the back of his mind, he could identify the venomous taste behind the sentiment, yet his mouth was working on it’s own and before he could shut himself up, the boy’s lips were forming words that made him feel the slightest bit bad. “ _Real_ family doesn’t make you earn your keep.”

As he said it, Dipper saw the absolute pain flash across Stan’s face. He winced as if hearing that had physically hurt him, as if he’d been betrayed and stabbed through he heart by someone as important as a brother. Still, though, dipper couldn’t bring himself to force out an apology. _It’s true, though,_ he thought to himself and for a moment, the thoughts in his head sounded very nearly like Bill’s voice.

The older man swallowed thickly and shook his head. “You think that’s family?” Though his voice quivered with the pain of betrayal, Stan was no longer yelling. He motioned to the door as he spoke. “That’s not a family, that’s a fucking cult. I’ve heard about the shit that goes on up on that farm or whatever the fuck you’ve got going on there, you’re being used by-”

“How _dare_ you!” Dipper demanded, dropping his sister’s hand and jumping to his feet. From behind him, Mabel stood as well, grabbing his sleeve and quietly trying to iterate that this wasn’t worth fighting over, he knew Bill wasn’t using him. He was too angry to hear her, though. Bill had spent countless nights caressing Dipper’s skin, whispering small promises of being partners in crime, of taking the world with him someday. Who was Stan to say that was fabricated? Did he think so little of Dipper that he assumed that’s all the teen was good for?

Stan was obviously taken aback by the teen, though he was still determined to stand his ground. God, that irritated Dipper to no end. Why couldn’t he just admit that he was wrong? Wrong for making them work, wrong for ostracizing them, wrong for _saying_ that about Bill… Fists clenched at his sides, Dipper took one last, long glare at his uncle before storming out of the shack. He’d rather be in Bill’s arms than in that situation any day.

There were no footsteps behind him, meaning Mabel didn’t follow right away. He hoped for their relationship’s sake that she was defending their friend. Walking on the road that divided the forest usually calmed him down, but the thoughts weighing his mind were far too heavy for natural, organic therapy.

_He’s just using you._

_That’s not family._

_Bill’s my family._

The blonde had quickly become everything to him, it all happened so fast that his head was still spinning nearly a month later. Still, he had no doubt in his mind that Bill would accept him more than Stan ever had. He was his Pine Tree, his pet, his _good boy_ in certain situations. And oh god, did those titles make him want to do right by the man more beautiful than God himself.

By the time he reached the house, he was too heated to bother knocking on the front door. Instead, he stormed right through the hallway to Bill’s usual sitting spot, following the sound of gentle sitar playing. Still angry by the way the argument, Dipper tossed the beaded partition aside and huffed, catching Bill’s attention.

The sitar playing stopped and looked up to the brunette. “Pine Tree,” he greeted, arching a brow. “Man, what’s got _your_ panties in a twist?”

“My stupid uncle!” Dipper replied, stepping into the room and grabbing at his hair. “He just- he completely treated Mabel and I like children! I’m a fucking man, I can make my own decisions and I can fuck who I want to fu-”

“Woah, woah, _woah_ there, Pine Tree,” Bill interrupted, tugging him into the usual spot beside him. Dipper felt himself calm the slightest bit at the blonde’s touch, though he still felt the insatiable urge to strangle someone- namely his uncle. Had he ever been this violently angry before? He couldn’t remember. “Slowly, okay? Tell me what happened.”

Dipper took a deep breath and slipped his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down before speaking. When the heavy breath didn’t work, he simply leaned against Bill, breathing in the scent of pot smoke and peaches. “He said we were spending too much time here, that we were slacking off on our work and not earning our keep. I said that _you_ didn’t make us earn our keep and he- he just…” Dipper groaned, feeling pathetic now that he thought about how petty the argument sounded. “Man, he just tried saying that you were using us and-”

“And you defended me, right?” Bill asked, the slightest hint of a scold on the tip of his tongue. Dipper recalled his father using the same tone often in his childhood.

_You didn’t touch that, right, Dipper?_

_You made your bed, right?_

_You’re not lying, right?_

Quickly, Dipper nodded. “Of course!” How foolish, the very idea that Dipper wouldn’t go to bat for Bill in a heartbeat. “I left and I don’t think I plan on going back.”

Bill smiled at that, reaching over to take his hands. Gingerly, the blonde leaned forward and kissed his forehead, sending the teen’s heart into a frenzy. “Good boy,” he muttered, lips still pressed to the birthmark he used to despise until Bill began telling him how remarkable it was. “I’m so proud of you. You know, Pine Tree, that really means something to me.”

“Really?” It _meant_ something to Bill? Something as small as defending him was important, apparently, and Dipper was all too happy to oblige.

Slowly, Bill nodded. “Mmhm,” he answered, pulling back with an almost foxlike grin. “You’ve done such a good job, and I just _l_ _ove_ having you around. You _love_  being here, right?”

There was that tone again. Nonetheless, it felt less like a scold and more like a need for assurance. Dipper nodded. “I do…”

“Great! Then I think it’s time I tell you a little bit about how things work around here with the family- which is to say, you’re part of the family now!”

_Now?_ “I wasn’t before?” Dipper asked, genuinely confused. His lips instinctively tugged into a tiny frown at that.

“No, I had to be _sure_ but you really proved yourself, Pines. Listen, where’s Shooting Star?”

 

“Here I am!” as if on cue, the girl stepped into the room with an all too chipper grin. “Sorry, I had to talk to Grunkle Stan. Eventually, I just told him I had shit to do and-”

“Are you going to stay here, too?” Bill asked, interrupting Mabel’s rant.

“Too?” she asked, glancing to her twin before she smiled. “Oh, good, so I’m _not_ camping out in the forest! Thank you-” she turned her gaze back to Bill. ‘-so much for letting us crash here!”

“Of course! You guys are always here anyway, might as well just give you guys beds. But right now, I need to talk to Pine Tree. Alone, kid.”

Dipper expected a witty remark and an eyebrow waggle, but it never came. Mabel simply nodded and submissively stepped out of the room again. The interaction was short lived, and then Bill was turning back to face the teenager and even though his golden eyes were all too captivating, Dipper couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking of how uncharacteristic that was of his sister.

That is, until Bill began to rake his fingers through his hair. “You’re my family now, Pine Tree. You and Shooting Star, but there’s something I gotta tell you that I’m not sure she’s ready for.”

“What is it?” Dipper asked, all too ready to hear whatever secrets Bill was willing to trust him with. He wanted to absorb every word, to drink in every bit of information the man had to offer. _God, I love him,_ he decided as the blonde grinned and held his face in place between his warm, soft hands.

“Let me start by saying, you’re real special, kid. You skipped a whole tier!”

“A… A tier?”

“Yeah! See-” Bill removed his hands then and sat back, taking the sitar from his lap and setting it aside. “The blue house is where the usual kids sleep, but the yellow house is where the _real_ family sleeps. You picking up what I’m putting down?”

He wasn’t. Not really, anyway. “The _real_ family?”

“Yeah! The family that’s proven how much I mean to them and baby,” he paused to grab Dipper’s face again, sending the teen’s heart into overdrive. His thumping chest only worsened when the blonde smirked at him. “You’ve earned your keep here.”

Oh god, he was going to swoon. Dipper still had no idea what Bill meant, but he was so… pleased with him. Like a dog being thrown a bone, Dipper grinned and wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders. “I’m your real family now, then?”

Dipper could have melted at the grin nearly splitting Bill’s face as he leaned in and pressed a smiling kiss to the corner of his lips, and then his jaw. “You’re my real family.”

“And,” Dipper breathed, noticing with much appreciation that Bill’s kisses were going south. Swallowing thickly, he grasped at his shirt. “And I did good?”

“You did so good,” Bill affirmed, placing his hands on Dipper’s waist and tugging the boy into his lap. Dipper was all too eager to follow Bill’s whims, letting him move him around like a doll. He let Bill manipulate his thighs apart and around his waist, moaning softly as his teeth began to leave gentle, soft scratches against his clavicle.

Dipper’s eyes slipped shut and he was laid back against the pillows, much to his comfort. Through the change in position, Bill’s lips never once left his chest. He could feel the weight of the blonde’s fingertips as he slowly began to unbutton Dipper’s shirt, kisses and small love bites following the trail of bared skin.

After each button was unfastened, Bill parted the teen’s shirt like a curtain and bit down over the flesh of his sternum, causing him to cry out against the feeling. Fuck, did those teeth feel amazing. Not just the teeth, but his lips, his breath, his _everything_. Everything about Bill was maddening in the best of ways, just the thought of the man fucking him was enough to make the brunette’s cock begin to swell against the confines of his denim pants.

“Bill,” he whined, hips pushing up in search of friction. The only response the boy got was a pair of hungry irises watching him through eyelashes and a set of deft fingers working on unhooking the button from his jeans.

Once his boxers and pants were removed, Bill sat up straight and reached onto the table beside the bed- was it really a bed? Then all of his attention was back on Dipper when he turned to face the boy, holding the small jar of Vaseline. Bill used his free hand to run his fingertips teasingly up the underside of Dipper’s cock, which had hardened frighteningly fast at just the _thought_ of Bill touching him.

“I know how I want you, my pet.” he very nearly sang, smirking cattishly. “But I want to hear how you want _me_. Go on, speak.”

“I-” Dipper stuttered, spreading his legs at the warmth building inside of him. “I- I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that all?” Bill snorted condescendingly and for a moment Dipper panicked, though he was somewhat comforted by the blonde lathering his fingers in the goop. “Jeez, Pine Tree, I would have thought you’d be more creative than that. You’re so _smart_ -” his cock twitched at the compliment, “-I thought you’d be able to tell me _just_ how you want it.”

Dipper whimpered at the feeling of a finger slowly circling his inner muscles, coated in obviously thick and slightly cold Vaseline. “I… I want you to take me however you want to, Bill,” he began, pausing to lick his drying lips. “I want you to bury yourself inside of me, to mark me up and make me all yours-”

“You already _are_ all mine.”

“Then mark me up…”

Bill stilled his finger at that and for a moment, Dipper worried that he’d upset him. When he looked to his face, though, Bill was grinning. “God, Pine Tree, you’re feeling fiesty tonight! You must really, _really_ want me to bruise up that pretty skin of yours, huh?” Dipper meekly nodded and Bill gripped his jaw with the hand that wasn’t slowly massaging him again. “ _Answer me._ ”

“Yes,” he breathed, locking gazes with the dangerously heated eyes that he loved so much. “Yes, I want you to brand me as all yours. Show everyone that I’m _yours_.”

“Good boy,” Bill hummed, finally easing his finger inside of him all the way, earning a soft moan from Dipper’s lips. “You’re such a good boy.”

Soon enough one finger inside of him massaging his prostate every so often became two, stretching him out and earning mewls of encouragement at the gentle burn that promised so much more. “Oh god,” he moaned as Bill’s fingers began to curl _just_ right inside of him, sending short lived but delicious jolts of pleasure to his dick.

Slowly, the teen began to reach for his cock, only to have his hand slapped away. “You’re going to cum from _just_ my cock, Pine Tree.” Though he whimpered, Dipper nodded and relished in the grin that the blonde gave him. “Such a good boy.”

By the time Bill’s third finger was inside of him, Dipper wasn’t sure he could take much more preparation. He wanted Bill, and he wanted him right then. “Please,” he whimpered, reaching up to tug at his own hair. “Please just…”

“Just what, Pines?” Bill asked with an innocent air, craning his neck down to kiss at his navel as his fingers thrust particularly hard. Dipper cried out at that, earning a smirk. “Tell me what you _just_ want.”

“I want your cock!” he all but sobbed as Bill slammed his fingertips against his prostate again. “I want you inside of me, fucking me until I can’t breathe, until you’re all I know! Please, Bill…”

“Fuck, Pine Tree, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” Bill complimented. Suddenly, Dipper was all too empty. He would have whined at the loss of fingers if it hadn’t meant better things to come. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging for me, sprawled out and ready for my dick. You look like such a little whore!” As he spoke, Dipper watched as Bill urged down his pants, grabbed the jar again and lathered his own cock, pumping it a few times.

Then the blonde was lining up and slowly inching himself into Dipper’s warm, stretched hole with a groan. Though he felt himself being filled again, most of the teen’s arousal was due to the blissful expression on his lover’s face. His eyes had fluttered closed and his jaw hung with the low moan he’d let out in time with Dipper, fists gripping onto the boy’s thighs. He looked… God, he looked magnificent, even in a state of euphoria Bill looked like an ethereal being, like a deity that Dipper should thank for allowing him to fuck.

The bliss on his face, though…

“Do I feel good?” Dipper whined just as Bill bottomed out, watching through a haze of lust and heavy breathing. The blonde’s grip tightened and he nodded, much to Dipper’s elation.

“You feel perfect,” he began, slowly pulling out only to slam his hips forward. Dipper sobbed at the movement, feeling Bill’s cock drag across his sensitive insides. “Like you were made just for me.”

“I was,” Dipper whined, spine arching with desire for the man thrusting in and out of him. “I was made just for you, Bill. I’m all yours.”

Above him, Bill hissed out a small, “fuck, kid,” and gripped his hips hard enough to keep him in place and bruise, just like he wanted. His hips began to build momentum and Dipper parted his thighs to let him deeper inside of him.

The teen loved this. He loved being fucked so perfectly, mercilessly denied any movement that wasn’t of Bill’s volition. He loved the feeling of Bill’s cock burying itself so deeply and hard inside of him that he wondered if his insides would bruise. Especially, though, he loved the feeling of Bill needing him just as desperately as he needed the other.

With a loud whine, Dipper slipped his eyes shut and laid his head back, gripping onto the pillows on either side of his body. “Bill! Oh god, Bill, fuck-” The man had begun raising his hips just enough to hit his prostate dead on, hard enough to make him see stars behind his eyelids. “Just- just like that!”

“Like this?” the man growled breathlessly, nails sinking into his skin and making Dipper’s nerves sing with pain, which somehow fed into the pleasure of Bill using him so thoroughly.

“Yes!” he cried, fighting his grip desperately to rock back against him. “Yes, fuck! Just like that!”

Bill grew silent again, only groaning every so often as he fucked Dipper into the pillows. After a moment, though, he leaned down and bit at the shell of Dipper’s ear, nails digging deeper into the flesh of his hips. “Tell me I’m your god,” he demanded, snarling into Dipper’s ear, animalistic in his words and movements. “That I’m your king, your one and only.”

The words only spurred Dipper’s twitching cock, so the boy cried out, dropping the pillows to grab onto the shoulders of his lover. “You’re my God,” he gasped, grasping onto Bill desperately. “You’re everything, you’re my everything! Oh- Oh god, I’m gonna-”

“Do it, Pine Tree,” Bill whispered, speeding up his hips. “Come for me. Like a good boy.”

All at once, Dipper was finally pushed over the edge, sobbing desperately as his grip on Bill tightened. He released between them and as he got sick of hearing his own screaming, Dipper bit down on his lip to silence himself, but _fuck_ , his orgasm wracked his entire body. Still, Bill pounded into him until finally, he released with an almost girlish moan, filling Dipper with his own heat.

Slowly, Dipper regained his senses and pulled back to look at Bill, eyelids heavy. Blissed out, he leaned forward and gave him a weak little kiss on the corner of his lips. “You’re… You’re so perfect.”

Bill hummed from the back of his throat before pulling Dipper into a real, honest to god kiss as he slowly pulled out. “No, kid, you’re perfect.”

Dipper had never felt so sated in his life.


	7. All You Need Is Love

Weeks. It had been weeks since Dipper had spoken to his uncle and ex coworkers. Word around town was that they missed him and Mabel- who had been staying at the commune full time. He couldn’t care less who or what they missed, though. Bill had brought it to his attention that it was convenient how they were only willing to care when he wasn’t around to cover shifts and clean up messes he didn’t make. He’d brought it up to Mabel once, and it brought her to tears about how she missed them too. In turn, he’d been irritated for days over it. Wasn’t Mabel as faithful to Bill- to their _real_ family- as he was?

They’d seen each other every day since they’d left the shack, they’d spoken every moment, and yet the boy could feel the all too thick barrier growing between them. She wasn’t as interested in what Bill had to say, wasn’t as interested in the ongoing parties around the commune- and she definitely wasn’t eager to do the yard work during the day to keep everyone busy.

Still, the twins did their duties, raking and weeding, sometimes gardening as per Bill’s instruction. Though she complained each time once Bill was out of earshot, Dipper would correct her instantly; and today was no different.

“It’s too hot,” she sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, the other holding the hoe she leaned against. As she dropped her arm from her forehead, Dipper noticed the smear of mud that it had left behind. “I’m gonna die of a heat stroke before any of the vegetables start growing!”

“Well, maybe if you would wear something other than those sweaters in the middle of summer,” Dipper pointed out, continuing on with his work, though he did agree that it was warm. Beside him, his sister scoffed and he readied himself for whatever tangent she was sure to go on.

It never came, though, as someone called her name as they approached the gate. With an eager, “Hey, guys!” she dropped the gardening tool and ran off to join the pair that had introduced them to the commune. The action rubbed him the wrong way, like it was blatantly disrespecting the job Bill had given her. Bill had always come first for Dipper- so why didn’t Mabel feel the same way? Was there something wrong with her? Though he continued on with his work, he glanced up at the conversation just out of earshot.

Soon enough his twin was grinning and bouncing back towards him. “Hey, Dip-dops, I’m going into town with the girls. Need anything?”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, arching a brow. _She’s just taking off without telling Bill?_ He couldn’t place a finger on it, but the thought rubbed him the wrong way. Bill had been nothing but kind, he cared for them, and she was just running off for God knows how long.

“Yeah, just for a bit! Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

He gripped tighter onto the hoe in his hands and nodded, staying silent on the unsettlement he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Have fun, I guess.”

Then she was gone, running back to the gate and calling back that she loved him. He knew that she was going to regret it, that her disappearance would likely spur a disruption and yet he said nothing as he went back to work.

He soon forgot about the impending doom- which he may have been imagining. Instead, he busied himself with carrying buckets, watering seedlings and generally doing housework. In fact, he forgot about Mabel altogether until he found himself in the kitchen, chugging down a glass of water and using a rag to wipe the hard earned sweat from his brow.

A pair of arms circled his waist from behind and a pair of lips pressed to his shoulder. “Hey there, Pine Tree. Finish your chores?”

Bill. Of course it was Bill. With a small grin, the brunette set his glass down and turned to steal a small kiss, which Bill quickly took control of. “Basically. All I have left to do is sweep up the porch and then I’m done.”

“Such a good boy,” the blonde hummed, smirking as he reached up to run his fingers through Dipper’s curls, eliciting a pleased sound from the boy. “And what about Shooting Star?”

Dipper froze at that. _Shit_. “She uh… She actually went to hang out with Grenda and Candy for a couple hours.” It was with no small sense of terror that Dipper watched his lover’s face fall into a frown.

“She what?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of _course_ I mind!” the man boomed, gripping Dipper’s hair for a brief moment before dropping it and detaching himself. “She left without asking! Why didn’t you tell me!?”

Oh, now he was angry. Specifically, the teen realized with gut clenching fear, he was angry at Dipper. He’d fucked up and made Bill unhappy. “I’m- I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“You’re damn right you should have!” he demanded, placing his hands on his hips and turning to face the other direction as he took a deep breath. Each beat of silence that followed had Dipper thinking of another way to beg forgiveness until he spoke. “No, Pine Tree, you didn’t do anything wrong. You stayed here and I’m so proud of you for that. Shooting Star, though… I’m gonna have a few words with her.” The ominous tone lacing Bill’s words did nothing to ease Dipper’s anxieties, but- call him selfish- he was merely glad the anger was no longer directed at him. “How long has she been gone?”

“Couple hours,” he responded meekly, hands wringing around themselves.

“Mmh. Hey, kid, go sweep the porch, huh? Like a good boy.”

The brunette nodded gently and started out of the kitchen, pausing to kiss the man on the cheek before he stepped outside. It was only when he reached for the push broom that he realized how badly his hands were shaking at the fear of upsetting Bill. He trusted the man, he knew he’d never intentionally hurt him, but _fuck,_ did he want to make him happy. Never, not in his lifetime, did Dipper want to be the source of his lover’s unhappiness.

Dipper began to sweep up the dirt and dust that had collected on the boards of the porch and had almost been finished when his sister came trotting up the steps. “Dipper!” she called, frowning as she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Bro-bro, we need to talk ab-”

“Shooting Star!” Bill chipperly greeted, stepping out onto the porch to join the twins. The tone was a drastic change from how he’d been before, but at the sound of his voice, Mabel clutched onto Dipper’s shirt almost protectively and tensed up. When the boy glanced away from his sister and to the older man, he saw that he was grinning at the girl, though his eyes were practically piercing through her. “Let’s have a little chat.”

It took a few moments, but Mabel nodded softly. “Alright,” she said gently, glancing to Dipper and dropping her hand. “You come too.”

“Nope, he has stuff to do! When he’s finished, though, he’s more than welcome! Come on!” Dipper watched Bill step back and push the door open as wide as it would go, leaving his twin more than enough room to slink back into the house. She had time to cast one last glance back to her brother before the screen door slammed shut and she was being led back to Bill’s room.

As soon as Dipper had dutifully scooped up the pile of accumulated dirt and tossed it in the garbage bin, he followed the sound of angry yelling. Stepping past the curtain of beads, he took in the situation. Mabel stood before Bill, arms crossed and face angrily set in stone as the blonde yelled in her direction, making hand motions to validate his point.

“Me! I’m the be all and the end all to you now!” he screamed, face reddened though hers stayed resolved. Dipper wanted to intervene, to jump between them and take all of Mabel’s blame as he had since they were children, but his feet wouldn’t move, his voice stuck to his throat. _She did this to herself,_ he thought, making his way to stand beside Bill. “Do you understand me!?”

“No,” she answered, voice shaking. She cleared her throat and tried again. “No, I don’t understand you. We’re supposed to be your _friends_ , not your _property._  You don’t own me.”

“Sorry to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but I _do_  own you! You’re living under my roof, you’re going to follow my rules, and you’re going to ask _permission_ before you leave! Am I clear?!”

For a long moment, Mabel stared at Bill, then at Dipper. His stomach filled with dread and her gaze shifted back to their host before spitting, “Yes, master,” and turning on her heel to storm back to the house she and Dipper were staying in. The front door slammed behind her and beside him, Bill let out a long, deep sigh.

“Master,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Like the sound of that, I gotta say!”

With a sigh of relief, Dipper wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders and kissed his shoulder softly. “You seem tense. Want me to help you out, _Master_?” he teased, earning a chuckle and affectionate pat on the back from Bill.

“As much as I’d love that,” the man began, rubbing his palm over the center of Dipper’s back before detaching. “I’m exhausted. Why don’t you go talk to Shooting Star? Talk her down and remind her why she’s here.”

“Yes, _Master_ ,” Dipper chuckled before pecking his lips and starting to the house next door. Up the stairs he went, and then down the hallway until he reached the room he slept in with his sister when he wasn’t with Bill. The girl had seated herself on the bed that belonged to her and her head shot up when her twin entered. He noticed her puffy, red eyes and the little sniffle that accompanied them. “You okay?”

“M’fine,” she replied, leaning against the wall. Her eyes stayed on her brother as he took a seat on her own bed. “I just… Dipper, it doesn’t seem right that he wanted to get us away from Grunkle Stan and then act even worse than him… You know?”

“What’re you implying?” Dipper asked, narrowing his eyes. Worse than Stan? “Grunkle Stan was tyrannical, Bill’s just looking out for us.”

“Did you not just hear the conversation we just had?!” Mabel demanded, whining gently. “I just… I think you should really think about it, Dip. Please.”

“Think about what?” he retorted, annoyed that his sister was questioning him- questioning the man he loved. “I don’t really think I have anything to think about!”

“You’re being impossible!” Mabel screamed, freezing Dipper in place. She hadn’t yelled at him like that since they were children, and even then it had been part of a game they’d been playing. The girl’s eyes were brimming with tears again, fists clenched at her side. “There’s something wrong here!” she continued after a moment of silence. “He’s dragging you down and you’re _letting_ him! You’re so smart, Dip-”

“If you don’t like it here, why haven’t you left?!” How was Bill dragging him down? Honestly, the man had done nothing but shown the twins hospitality- and shown Dipper pure, unadulterated happiness. The teen had seen the world through rose colored glasses since meeting the blonde, what was so wrong with that? He’d shown him how to love, however corny it may have sounded; and he’d shown him how toxic his home life was, that he deserved better than being Stan’s work slave, and here Mabel was, telling him that it was wrong of him to be happy. “If you’re _so_ unhappy, you should go!”

“Maybe I will!” she yelled, wiping her eyes furiously as she stood and grabbed the few belongings she had with her- a picture of their parents and a small seashell given to her by Mermando- off of the night stand beside her cot.

Now that his twin was actually moving, readying herself to leave, Dipper felt guilty. He didn’t have the authority to kick her out, nor did he really have the right to yell at her like he did. But she was being so awful towards Bill- and consequently, to him.

Though it made his chest tighten, he silently watched his sister make her way to the door and then storm out, skirt billowing out behind her. By the time he stood and rushed into the hallway to beg her not to leave, she was gone and he felt… Oddly empty.

Of course, he was upset over losing his sister but it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would have been. His chest still ached, though, and he felt guilty for yelling so he did what always helped him feel better.

When he walked into Bill’s room again, the blonde was strumming away on the sitar that always sat on his lap or to the side of it. He knocked a few times on the doorframe and the music stopped. “Yeah, Pine Tree?”

“Mabel’s gone,” he stated, dragging his feet as he shuffled inside and took a seat beside the man. “We got into an argument and she took her things and left.”

Bill visibly tensed at that, then sighed, pulling the teen onto a pillow beside him. “Kid, I really don’t see why you’re so upset,” he sighed, linking his arms around his waist. “You don’t need her anyway.”

There was no doubt in Dipper’s mind that had someone told him that at this time last year, he would have blown up, dropped them completely, but… Coming from Bill, it was different. “I don’t?”

“You don’t,” he affirmed, raking his fingertips through the boy’s shaggy hair. “You don’t need your bratty sister, your asshole uncle of those halfwits that work for him. You’ve got me. You dig it?”

Dipper knew that Bill was only trying to comfort him, give him words of encouragement and let him know he was there for him, but it hit him so much deeper than simple consolation.

_Family is everything, okay? When the world gets cold and turns it’s collective back on you, family is all you’ve got._

He recalled Stan’s words from the diner and realized that the man had been right, only that Bill was his family and not him. The blonde had given him a home, a purpose and had practically taken him around the world and back without ever having to leave his bed. When the brunette looked back to his lover, he offered a small smile to a hopeful set of gleaming, golden eyes and nodded softly.

Bill grinned at that. “Groovy,” he hummed, leaning in to kiss him and Dipper absolutely melted into the thoughtful, tender motion of his lips. Once he pulled away, his hands rested on the teen’s arms, just above his elbows. “On that note, I don’t want you talking to Shooting Star anymore. She’s bad news, Pine Tree. Understood?”

“Understood,” Dipper repeated without hesitation, suddenly unsure of why he felt to anxious at the beginning of summer, why he’d been so afraid to leave his sister’s side. She was useless to him, essentially, now that he had Bill. He was all too ready to leave everyone behind if it would make Bill happy, and judging by the grin overtaking the man’s face, his reply did just that.

“Good,” he praised, setting the sitar to the side and tugging Dipper into his lap. “You’re such a good boy, Pine Tree.” As always, the praise sent shivers down his spine. Pleased with the words, Dipper pressed a feather light kiss to the curve of Bill’s cheek, running his hands over his chest, more than ready to show Bill just how much he appreciated the admiration leaving his perfect lips. Bill’s own lips turned at the last moment and caught his, bringing a soft smile to Dipper’s face as he reciprocated through a stretched mouth.

As he kissed his lover, Dipper thought about how his chest still ached for his sister. It was stupid, how much he knew he was going to miss her, but also that he had been so anxious about it in the first place. Now, his palms didn’t sweat at the thought of losing her. Now, his heart raced not because he was afraid, but because Bill’s hands worked against his skin in the most tantalizing of ways, eliciting tiny moans and hums of approval. He had Bill now, he didn’t need Mabel, or Stan, or anyone else. Just like the blonde had said.

The heavy petting continued until the teen was being laid back against the thrown of pillows, Bill’s lips working at his neck. “I’m all you need,” he repeated, nearly growling against the skin as if reiterating the fact in case Dipper had forgotten. “I’m your everything. Tell me so, I want to hear it,”

“You’re everything,” Dipper whined, craning his neck into the kisses and small bites. “You’re everything to me.”

“All you need is love, Pine Tree,” he muttered, palming him through his pants. “And I love you very, _very_ much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but things are gonna start getting real here soon xo ;*
> 
> Edit; I know I've kinda been absent for like three months!! I've been working on it, I promise. Updates are gonna start up again soon!!


	8. Chapter Eight- Love Is Here And Now You're Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! It's been a while!  
> I've had a lot of heavy stuff going on and I kinda took an unannounced hiatus. Updates will probably still be super sporradic, but we're most of the way there c:

It always seemed to end up here. They always managed to end up in Bill’s bed, tumbling across the vast valley of sheets and mountains of pillows. The outside world didn’t matter, for they were only concerned with themselves and the sounds one another made in moments like these. Nobody else existed. Their problems didn’t exist. They were alone in the world, each a part of each other until their trysts ended. Even after, sometimes, they would catch their breath and whisper little mutters of undying love to one another.

This was no exception.

A union, Bill had called it. Something like a marriage to one another- but also involving a handful of other people. It had taken some convincing, some explaining that it was necessary if Dipper wanted to become a _real_ part of the family.

He’d wanted nothing more than to be a part of the family, so he accepted, and it led to standing underneath the tree surrounded by the rest of the residents on the property. The summer breeze tousled his hair ever so gently, just the way that Bill’s fingers did on late nights as he drifted off to sleep. From his right, the aroma of freshly picked and braided flowers wafted to his nose, offering a sweet scent to his wedding that every girl would be jealous of.

Bill stood before him, dressed from head to toe in loose fitting, white clothes to match his own. Each little glance from the taller man sped up Dipper’s pulse, and when he spoke… God, did Dipper feel light headed. Then again, that may have had to do with all the tea they’d drank beforehand- even _if_ he was sure he’d feel just as ecstatic while sober. He still would have clung to each and every word spilling from the blonde’s mouth.

“Pine Tree,” he began, rendering Dipper’s knees to jelly. “You’re everything to me. You’ve really proven yourself and it would be my absolute _honor_ ,” he paused to take Dipper’s hands in his own briefly before holding a hand to Presley. One of the flower crowns she’d braided was delicately placed into his hand and from there, placed atop Dipper’s head. “If you would let me accept you into my family. Come on, all you’ve gotta do is say yes!”

A small round of laughter sounded, including the brunette’s own until everyone settled and once more, the only sound was the wind whistling through the leaves shading him. Bill lowered his hands to Dipper’s shoulders and gave one last beaming grin. “What say you, Pine Tree?”

The teen swallowed down his excitement and took the flower crown Presley had handed to him. “I say that I’d be honored to be a part of your family.” As he spoke, Dipper placed the flower crown over Bill’s messy tresses and reveled in the smile overtaking the man’s face. After receiving a small kiss and a sip of wine from the grail that Florrie- a blonde Dipper rarely saw- offered, he stepped to the side and welcomed Lilly to take his place.

“Lilly Pad,” Bill began, taking her hands. “You’re everything to me. You’ve really proven yourself to me and-” Dipper managed to blank out the rest of the spiel, only focusing on Bill’s lips, on the way they moved, on the way he smiled- even if it wasn’t at him.

Even as he witnessed Bill give himself to a small handful of people, he knew that he was special. Bill had said so, and he was the only one who got the privilege of sleeping in Bill’s bed that night. The only one who had the privilege of hearing small nothings whispered into his skin.

Dipper Pines was the only one who got to pull him into a kiss and whisper that he loved him.

It’d started off slow, with Bill suckling the skin of his inner thighs and opening him up with Vaseline and his fingers, but the tempo they’d built mere minutes later was all too fast and rough. It was desperate and Dipper clung to the man above him as though he was clinging to his own life, personified and in the flesh.

In a way, he was. He had fallen too quickly for Bill, so quickly that it left him reeling in the aftermath and unable to see any other meaning in his life. His head was constantly dancing with fleeting thoughts shifting between memories and daydreams of the future; but all of them had one thing in common. Bill was always the focal point. He was the clarity in the muddled together thoughts, the freshly fallen rainwater beside the muddy green ponds of Dipper’s mind.

Sometimes, it became so overwhelming that the brunette would cry. His chest would ache and he would swear his heart was breaking in a pleasant sort of way whenever Bill sang to him, whenever they were alone and he whispered sweet nothings against the nape of his bared neck. Yes, Dipper Pines often found himself overwhelmed by the affection he felt for the blonde, and that was the case as he took him on the night of their ceremony.

Face down, the brunette panted against the mess of pillows, reveling in the pain of Bill’s bruising grip on his waist as he undulated into him; thrusting to the beat of some song only heard by the taller man. His movements tore Dipper apart, though his hands held him together. Vaguely, the teen thought that he’d never feel this good again in his life, that he’d never again cry out Bill’s name due to both pain and pleasure of the man’s cock destroying him from the inside out.

His grip on the pillow beneath his head tightened as Bill slammed into his prostate, his breath catching in his burning throat. For the slightest moment, he felt Bill’s hips still inside of him, and with no small sense of panic, he thought that maybe the blonde had cum. _He’ll leave me to finish myself off,_  Dipper thought, heart racing from both the disappointment and the exertion from their activities. _No, no, God, that was too good. More. Fuck, please, mo-_

“Pine Tree,” Bill growled. The sound was enough to make Dipper’s fear flee and replace it with a new brand. “How much do you love me?”

“So much,” the teen pled, screwing his eyes shut and trying to rock against Bill’s grasp, whining when it proved fruitless. “I love you so much, Bill, fuck!” Eager to return to the pace they’d built up, Dipper began spewing small rounds of begging, hoping it’d persuade the blonde into fucking him mercilessly again.

No such luck, though, because the more he wriggled about, the harder his fingers dug into his flesh. “Yeah,” he continued in the same deep, gravelly voice that didn’t sound like his own. It sent shocks up Dipper’s spine. “You love me more than you love yourself?”

“Yes!” What an odd question. Still, Dipper didn’t register the oddity of it, only the desperation he felt pooling in his gut. “More than myself- more than anything!”

“Would you die for me?”

As he asked this, Bill slammed his hips forward again, giving Dipper a small taste of what he so eagerly craved. The brunette cried out and hung his head between his shoulders, sobbing into the hot, sex scented air. “Yes!”

Another thrust.

“And you’d kill for me, too?”

“Yes, God, Bill!”

The smirk on Bill’s face was predatory as he continued thrusting into the teen. “Such a good boy.”

 

▲▲▲

 

Dipper woke up in his own bed the next morning, his entire body aching. Bill had really done a number on him, he noticed. His spine and stomach especially felt as though they’d taken a beating, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do his chores efficiently; but for the sake of Bill‘s opinion, he knew he‘d find a way. With an empty stomach and sore legs, Dipper started down the stairs and to Bill’s home to ask what he was doing around the commune today, hoping through every aching movement that he’d get something easy.

Yawning and scratching his head, the teen pleaded to whatever higher power that it wasn’t anything that required too much movement or lifting. It would devastate him to have to move around too much with the state his body had been left from the night before. When he walked into Bill’s house, though, Presley was the first to greet him.

The girl nearly ran into him as she hurried out of the hallway, then grinned happily as if pleased to see him. “Hey! Oh man, just the guy I wanted to see! Bill wants you,” she said, not tripping over her words despite the speed at which they left her lips; much to Dipper’s amazement. Before he could respond, the girl was grabbing his hand and dragging him into the hallway she’d just come out of and into the room Dipper knew so well.

He was greeted as soon as he stepped in the door. “Pine Tree!” Bill cheered, opening his arms as a warming welcome. “Glad you could join us. Come on, take a seat! We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Dipper parted his lips to ask what said discussion would entail, but snapped it shut and obediently shuffled over to the blonde. After taking his usual seat, Bill clapped his hands together once, catching each and every person’s attention- as if he hadn’t had it before. Each and every moment anybody spent with Bill was a moment spent basking in the man’s radiance, admiring his charismatic pull. He was like a magnet, pulling everyone’s gaze and immediate affection to himself. Dipper supposed that was one of the things he loved the most about him. Bill could light up a room with a flick of his finger or a twitch from his lips. People like that never noticed Dipper- or at least not unless they wanted to get on Mabel’s good side- but Bill… Bill _loved_ him. Bill had said so many times that he was in love with the brunette and he believed every single word of it. He thrived off of the affection, he drank each syllable as if he was dying of thirst.

“You alright, Pine Tree?”

Brought out of his trancelike reverie by Bill nudging his side, the teen offered a smile and a nod. “M’fine.”

“Yeah? You look kinda bummed out.”

Oh god, the caring tone in his voice- the way Bill slipped his arm around his shoulder- had his heartbeat racing. “I’m cool, man,” he assured, resting his temple on his lover’s shoulder. After a tiny kiss to his forehead, he heard Bill continue on with the explanation Presley dragged him in for.

“Alright, check this out. You all know how much I love you, right?” There was a pause in which everyone hummed an affirmation. The enthralling smile on Bill’s lips showed just how pleased he was to hear that. “Each and every one of you are so, so special to me. But how special am I to you?”

Dread built up in the pit of Dipper’s stomach. Did… Did Bill feel unimportant? Before he could ask, Florrie stood and blurted out, “Bill, you’re everything to us! You’re our lives, like-”

“You say that,” he interrupted, silencing the girl with his words and only continuing as she slowly sank back to the beanbag by the window. “But how do I _really_ know? Now, I know that I’ve shown all of you just how much I care, but where’s your ends of the deals?! This is a give and take relationship, you know!”

There was something ominous beneath Bill’s voice, something impending with the way his voice rose and then lowered. It had Dipper at the edge of his seat all the while. “I want you to _prove_ how much you love me. I want anarchy! I want you to lose your inhibitions and cause as much chaos as you possibly can tonight- turn your love and devotion into art!”

Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was the fact that everyone was already too enthralled with Bill’s commands that nobody protested as Dipper thought they might. Everyone stayed silent until Bill dismissed them to do whatever they liked, that they didn’t have to do any chores today.

▲▲▲

Whenever Dipper was younger and thought about crime, he immediately thought about criminals in all black clothing, with beanies atop their bald heads and bandanas over their eyes. The image in his mirror was so much different. Jeans, a white button down shirt and loafers. This wasn’t anything like the old movies he and Mabel used to catch at the theater with their parents. Those criminals wore black, he wore white. They knew what they were doing, he was inexperienced and going in blind… They were in danger, but Dipper knew Bill would never put him in harm’s way.

Bill’s word was enough to convince him that he could do this, that everything would be just fine. He could do this! Sure, he had no conceivable idea what ‘it’ was that he would be doing, but it’d be a good time. One more glance in the mirror and Dipper was straightening his spine before starting down the stairs to meet up with the rest of the group- with Bill’s other right hands.

Just like him, none of them were decked out in all black but rather in their every day clothing. Some hadn’t changed since their talk that morning. Dipper glanced at everyone’s faces individually and for once in his life he felt like he wasn’t the most apprehensive. Presley looked bored, Ronnie‘s face was set in stone, and Florrie was practically shaking as she fiddled with her nails.

“Can we go yet?” Presley asked and though Florrie looked absolutely unsure, she nodded, granting the group permission to set off into the night and destroy the town’s quiet, campy little life.

For the first hour or so, they stuck together. Moving as a group, they did things that Dipper never would have thought of doing before. It started out inconspicuously enough with a couple wallets being stolen and road signs being plastered over but eventually everything escalated. People were roughed up in alleyways, a convenience store was held at the point of a gun Dipper didn’t know Ronnie had and finally, they decided the last thing they were going to do before going back.

Dipper hadn’t been 100% cleared on the details, only that it had something to do with smashing the windows to what was once his favorite store in the small beach town. Filled to the brim with books and records pertaining to what used to be his tastes, the small, family owned business stood dormant in the night air, staring at the approaching group as they came closer.

Once perched on the sidewalk in front of the shop, Dipper found himself curiously gazing inside through the window. It had been just as he remembered, littered with stray stacks of books, records on display quaintly around numerous seats and tables. For a moment, Dipper longed to be seated in one of the chairs, but then someone was placing a heavy brick into his hand just before all chaos broke loose.

The teen flinched at the sound of a glass window shattering, then again at the amused hoot that left Ronnie’s lips. At once, he followed suit, tossing the brick into his own reflection on the window. He watched his face splinter and break apart, leaving a gaping black hole where he’d seen himself mere moments earlier. It felt eerie, haunting almost, seeing his own caricature crumble apart that way and fall to his feet. All around him, his family’s disorder continued, going on and on as they whooped and hollered, smashing and destroying anything they could get their hands on.

Time passed quickly after Dipper shook the vague feeling of doom that had washed over him, only for it to return as a couple of police cruisers pulled up in front of the store. His initial thought was that he was, most definitely, going to jail, but by the time Sheriff Blubs emerged with his weapon drawn, he’d accepted it. Perhaps he’d accepted it when Bill told him to prove his loyalty, or maybe he’d become so numb that he genuinely didn’t care whether he obtained a record or not. It wasn’t like he really planned on going to Seattle after this.

He didn’t have any long term plans anymore. He’d had so many plans since starting high school. He was going to graduate with above average grades, he was going straight to college, he was going to become a writer or a scientist and settle down with a nice girl, die happily. None of those plans mattered now that he’d found a family willing to accept him, willing to die for him the same way he would for them. He didn’t need to live in a lab or on the page anymore to be happy.

Bill made him happy.

That’s why he didn’t struggle when Deputy Durland slammed his face down on the hood of the police car and then apologized for the rough treatment. He didn’t struggle when the handcuffs restrained his wrists. He complied with ease as he was directed into the back of the police cruiser. There was really no point in struggling, he knew. It’d only make it worse. He’d already been caught and a fight would only make it worse.

Besides, he was sure Bill would get him out. He had full, unmodified faith in the blonde. Bill loved him, he wouldn’t let him rot in a jail cell as long as he could help it, and he could. It was only a matter of time before he was out and walking around again, Dipper told himself. He continued thinking so with each passing hour, each tick of the cheap clock somewhere in the hallway outside of his cell.

Finally, after counting the sluggishly passing minutes, Blubs was unlocking the cell door, his face twisted into a tight lipped frown. “Real disappointed in you, Pines. You used to be such a good kid, you know?”

Dipper looked up at the man, face completely expressionless. Sure. This cop hardly knew anything about him, had nothing to base that theory off of. It was a guilting tactic. He was trying to guilt Dipper into acting straight again- something he could assure wouldn’t happen. “Is there a reason you’re standing there chastising me with the door open?” he responded in a flat tone, resulting in the Sheriff shaking his head solemnly.

“You made bail,” he stated, stepping to the side as Dipper rose to his feet, brushing past him as he walked out of the hallway. He’d known Bill would come through. He knew the blonde cared too much to let him sit there. _I’ll have to really show some appreciation,_ Dipper thought to himself as he rounded the corner, ready to pull Bill into a kiss.

It wasn’t Bill who greeted him, though. Instead, the was met with the disappointed gaze of his Grunkle and twin. “Oh, Dip,” Mabel breathed out, rushing forwards to wrap her arms around him. “Dipper, we’re so glad you’re okay. Why would you do something like that?!”

Tensing against her hug, Dipper furrowed his eyebrows, glancing towards Stan. “Where’s Bill?”

“Not here, kiddo,” Stan sighed gruffly, obviously disappointed. He’d probably had plans to laze about and watch Gilligan’s Island but instead, he was here. “Come on, the sooner we get home, the better.”

In reaction to those words, Dipper felt Mabel detach herself from him and grab his wrist, tugging him towards the glass doors leading to the street. At once, he attempted to wrestle his arm from her grasp, frown deepening on his face. “Woah, hey, I’m not going back to the shack.”

All gazes were pointed at him now, putting him on the spot. He knew that had it been two months ago, it would have made him uncomfortable to be the center of attention; but things were different now. Painfully so. This wasn’t even his family anymore. Beside the burly, hairy mess of a cheaply made suit and ear hair long enough to braid, stood the one thing that kept Dipper even a portion of the way entwined with the Pines family.

“Dipper,” Mabel began, her voice just as forlorn and pleading as her tear filled eyes. He didn’t want to look at her. He knew for a fact that if anyone were to get him to come back, it’d be his twin and best friend on the face of the fucking earth.

There was no going back now, though. He knew that. That’s why his gaze steadily pointed itself towards the ground for a silent eternity lasting a few moments- until he felt Mabel gripping his shoulders and demanding his attention. When his eyes met hers, the tears had just began spilling over. She bit her bottom lip, and for the first time in their short 18 years together, it occurred to Dipper that she looked scared. She had the capability of being scared, just like he did. No matter how many times her strong will and fists had bailed him out of serious trouble.

“Dipper.” This time, when she spoke, her voice was all steel and strong reserve. “You have to come home. You aren’t being yourself anymore!”

The words brought him back to his own, distorted reality. “Who the fuck are you to tell me who I am?” he demanded. Mabel’s comforting grip reeled back, as if he slapped her with his own breath. “I’ve barely seen or heard from you in weeks, and then you suddenly think you have the right to tell me who I’m allowed to be?!”

“That’s not what she meant and you know it, Kid!” Stan yelled from behind his niece. “That fucking lunatic has you brainwashed, you know we only want what’s best for you-”

“Funny, coming from the guy who let my grandfather die and then abandoned us for years.” Perhaps it was too far, or perhaps it was something they both needed to hear. “ _Real_ ” family wouldn’t pull that shit.”

“Yeah? If that freakshow’s such great family, why were _we_ the ones bailing you out?”

“I don’t need this,” the brunette stated simply, lifting his hands as if to show himself letting go of something- and he was. Dipper was letting go of his sibling and uncle. “I don’t need you, that stupid fucking shack, any of it.”

“Bro bro-”

“Fuck off,” he bit, interrupting his twin plea for him to stay. Again, he couldn’t stand to face her, knowing he’d hurt her, and instead found himself opening the door to the Police Station and walking out, just as his usually prideful sister sank to her knees and began to bawl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally thank you so much to everyone who stuck around.
> 
> EDIT: HEY I KNOW I SAID A YEAR AGO THAT I WOULD REGULARLY UPDATE BUT I HAD SOME TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES AND STARTED WORKING TEN HOUR SHIFTS BUT MOSTLY, I THINK WE'RE GOOD. IF ANYONE STILL READS THIS. I FEEL LIKE I'M SHOUTING INTO THE ABYSS.


End file.
